


Anecdotal Evidence

by Silvermoonphantom (Daitoshi)



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Body Horror, Cannibalism, Creepy, Crossover, Gen, Gore, Hannibal is a Cannibal, It's not gay if he's dead, Mer!Danny, Oneshot collection, Reverse Trio AU, Scars, Time Travel, Underage Smoking, Younger Pines Twins, but doesn't danny always technically die?, disabled!danny, liminal space, phantom falls, swagger bishie, technically died, trans!Danny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 24,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daitoshi/pseuds/Silvermoonphantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Danny Phantom oneshots.<br/>Chapter 25: Stand with me </p><p>Gore and punning like your life depends on it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vapor

Danny shuffled up to his room, dumping his backpack on his bed, and collapsing into his chair. Today had been exhausting. His fingers dragged toward the mouse, too tired to even be excited about getting online to play with his friends. 

A knock at the door caught his attention, and he swiveled his chair to face the doorway. 

A peircing dread sank into his belly, at the red and white package his sister was holding up with a frown. She tossed it to him, and he managed to fumble it to his chest, holding too tightly and crumpling the laminated cardboard. 

“Really, Danny?” 

He hunched his shoulders, averting his gaze and shoving the package of cigarettes into his desk drawer. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It would be if you were actually smoking.”

He glanced up, startled. 

“You’ve had that package for over a month, and they’re all untouched. Either you’re keeping the package full from another case (which I highly doubt) or you’re faking a habit.”

Danny really wasn’t sure how to respond at this point. He had prepared himself for angry yelling, and none seemed to be coming. Jazz sighed. 

“Let me guess... Someone noticed your ghost sense, so you started carrying these around to mislead people.”

He nodded, and she pushed herself off the doorframe. 

“Two things you’re doing wrong.” She continued before he could interrupt, plopping herself onto the end of his bed. “First of all, you don’t smell like tabacco smoke. Second, vaporizers are a thing. Legal for minors to posess. The cartridges can come in interesting flavors, and there are some non-nicotine versions for people who still have an oral habit, but quit the nicotine.”

Danny folded his arms, wrinkling his nose at the term. 

“I don’t have an oral habit, and I don’t want one” 

“No, but you do have something to hide.”

He tossed her the half-empty box of cigarettes, turning back to his computer. Too much stress. Back to being tired.  

“Aren’t you supposed to try and keep me away from smoking?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, tucking the loose sticks back into the box and folding it closed. 

“You’re doing fine on your own.”


	2. Learning the Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The electricity from the portal ends up damaging Danny's spine.  
> He learns to live with it.

He traced his fingertips over the slack muscles, brushing a thumb over the kneecap before hooking his hand around the joint to lift.

It was still strange, the lack of feeling, the deadweight that should have been moving but wasn’t. They said he was lucky, somehow, that the damage hadn’t been worse. No damage to his upper spine, which was apparently a risk when spinal damage was a result of electricity.

* * *

 

I still like you, Danny, I just Dont know if we should be together.

“Because I can’t walk, now?”

“It’s not that! It’s just, I dont want to… y’know… take care of you.”

He could feel the frost gathering under his fingertips. Able to stamp down the anger, but not quite able to keep the chill out of his voice, he tried to meet her eyes. It was humiliating enough to try and get used to his change of bathroom use without people apparently  _thinking of it when they looked at him._

“I can take care of myself. “

She was still avoiding his gaze, one hand wrapped around to grab her elbow.

“I know that… I just - I still want to be friends!”

“Right.”

He knew he sounded hollow, the last ‘t’ sliding out with a listless hiss of breath.

“Still friends, then”

He managed a strained smile, and Sam returned one of her own, mumbling something about a meetup with friends before shuffling away.

He toyed with the lip of rubber under his palm, the texture becoming more and more familiar as his hands got used to the strain of moving wheels.

He needed to fly.

_To run away._

* * *

 

The transformation was easy as ever, a quick sweep of light over his body, the wheelchair turning a shining silver, like some sort of throne. That color would fade, the longer he left it alone.

* * *

 

“Danny, pay attention.”

He dragged his eyes back up to the speaker, resentment building up in his bones. He didn’t need to let the chair be his legs. He could hover, even in human form - could turn the wheels intangible if he had to roll over something tricky. It was a challenge to overcome, not a machine to integrate into his life.

_He didn’t need this._

* * *

 

Spectra mocked him, laughing that ugly little cackle from where she perched in a tree.

The modified Spectre Deflector hummed tauntingly from behind his back, installed despite his protests this morning.

“I dont even have to say anything!”

Her voice was sickeningly gleeful.  
“All this misery, this anger and you can’t do a thing about it!

She probably didn’t expect him to throw himself out of the chair, initiating the transformation the moment his legs were clear.

Those same limbs didn’t reappear this time - they hadn’t for a while.

Spectra hissed at him and flew away, no longer as cocky once he made it clear that he was far from helpless. He’d remove the Deflector later, or disable it somehow.

* * *

 

Danny wasn’t sure when he first forgot to make his lower limbs form, but it was becoming habitual. There really wasn’t a point in forming legs as a ghost - no reason to stand when he could hover. They were starting to become numb, anyway. He didn’t like the stiff joints or staticky lack of feeling that just reminded him of how his human side started down that slope.

Mist was easier anyway.

* * *

 

For a while he wondered how difficult it would be to live the rest of his life as Phantom. Fly around the world, maybe accompany Dani for awhile.

Just vanish one day. 

Probably less difficult than this.

_(how many people would notice?)_

* * *

 

The first time someone grabbed the back of his chair, it was a nurse right after he was loaned a hospital chair. He was in the way, clumsily trying to turn the damn thing without knocking into a table. She scooted him into a corner, grabbed what she needed, and left without a how-do-you-do.

It was confusing, and struck a strange chord in his heart at the time.

That thing - the grabbing thing - it happened more than he would like. Usually when he was ‘struggling’ with something (which, to be honest, was a lot in the beginning.), or showing any discomfort with what he was doing. Some ‘kind hearted’ person would walk up and push his chair over the bump, or up the hill, or over the loose gravel or whatever.

At first he was too surprised to comment, but after the third time of his wheels starting to turn under his fingers - tight grip on them being ripped off - he was too pissed to hold in a comment.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”

The woman looked down at him, face a mixture of indignance and pity. There wasn’t even handles for her to grab onto, she had just grasped the backrest’s side bars.

“I’m just trying to help. You were-”

“I KNOW, this is HARD, LET ME GO.”

He was getting looks from passerby, fingers clenched next to the wheels. They didn’t matter, but it was so damn FRUSTRATING.

She made a snide comment under her breath, tossing her hair and crunching away.

Danny just took a breath, grit his teeth and stared at the gravel ahead of him, muscling the wheels forward under the shifting pathway. 

* * *

 

Over time, he did get used to his wheels.

He learned to wear gloves when he planned on traveling long distances, to bring lotion along because apparently his hands could get chapped and crack.

Learned the feel of the backrest against his muscles.

Teamed up with Tucker to craft a laptop holder, and little generator that charged his batteries from the centrifugal force of the spinning wheels. 

Adjusted to the way that some people’s eyes would slide over him, like they wanted to pretend he didn’t exist.

And the people who only an echo of him, thinking he was some poor pity case, well… Most people lost their ‘friendly’ approach under steely silence and a fierce enough glare. 

Figured out the best ways to stretch tight shoulder muscles, and how to properly lock the wheels so he could climb into bed or into Jazz’s car without help.

The ghosts, they learned too - eventually.

They learned that in Amity Park, lived a boy in a wheelchair, with a stare like ice.

They learned not to assume he was powerless, or by any means weaker. If you could see the white rings engulf him, it was too late to fly away. He was faster. He would catch you. 

There was no room for weakness in that straight-backed chair.

And nothing but ruthlessness for any who would threaten his town.


	3. Its not gay if you're dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swagger bishie. Dark themes. Not a good relationship~ Silver rediscovers she is memelord trash and LOVES the fact that there is now a phandom meme

'It's not gay if you're dead Fenton' Dash all but whispered as he pushed Danny against the still damp wall of the locker room shower.

It was supposed to be a joke - just a bit of a scare to get the dork to stop moping around all the damn time.

Maybe a part of him wanted to see the fear in the other teen's eyes, He was aware there was something fucked up about that, but it was just so easy to wrap his hands around the kid's throat and  _squeeze_.

It hand't been hard, or for long - Fenton hadn't even struggled.

He just looked back in Dash's eyes, angry perhaps, and a bit confused.

His hands rose up and the blonde prepared to resist some sort of struggle. He didn't expect the fingers in his jacket, pulling him forward with a quiet mutter.

"Is that so?"

Not for the first time, Dash realized how cold Fenton's skin was, how pale.

He couldn't feel a pulse under her fingers, despite how deep they were digging into the boy's throat.

He couldn't feel the rasp of air trying to escape, or the panic that should have been rising.

There was no breath on his face to warn him before his lips…

Dash reared backwards, dropping the loser and backpedaling fast enough to hit the sinks behind him.  
"F-freak."

He grabbed his towel, throwing it over his shoulder and storming out of the bathroom.

He pretended not to notice the lack of gasping or sputtering. How Fenton had just dropped to the ground and watched him leave, knuckles brushing against the finger-shaped bruises already blooming up around his neck.

"It's not gay if I'm dead, Dash."

The quarterback slammed the door behind him, ignoring the mocking words.


	4. Fangs

The sound seemed to shoot through his brain and down his spine, a loud grinding gave him a headache, but he  _couldn't stop._  He hated the things, with a ferocity he couldn’t quite put into words.   
The only conclusion? Doing  _this_  every week, to keep them away. 

Danny winced as his hand slipped, leaning his head over the sink and spat out the blood now welling up in his mouth. Just a scratched gum, it was fine. It would heal.   
He took a deep breath, letting the throbbing in his skull ebb away for a moment before spitting that metallic taste out again.

The mirror seemed to mock him when he looked up at it, his black hair framing exhausted eyes and the smudges of tired purple under them. He bared his teeth in a grin, ignoring the red seeping out between the spaces between.   
  
He poked at the tip of his eyetooth with a thumb, nodding with satisfaction. It was even, flat enough to be human.   
  
Danny picked up the metal file, tapping it on the sink to get rid of the film of saliva and enamel still clinging to it.   
  
Opened his mouth to peer at the long, slightly curved fang fitting neatly amongst his other ( _normal)_  teeth. 

  
Ignored the blood. ( _it would heal. It’s fine)_

 _  
_The grinding gave him a headache.


	5. Mate

He’d been in the bubble for weeks.   
Danny groaned, flopping backwards and spreading his arms out in a mockery of a snow angel. He had lost track of time, lost interest in what was going on, lost the last vestiges of curiosity about ‘What bodily functions do I have?’

Apparently, as long as he didn’t think about them, his organs didn’t exist. 

Initially worried that vivisection was on the menu, days and weeks ticked by without even the barest mention of that sort of thing. Apparently the dudes in white just wanted to see why his behavior was ‘markedly erratic’. 

Recently, though... things had been getting weird. The GIW had started tossing ghosts of various types into his containment, observing while they fought. The fact that most of them were only semi-sentient didn’t help his attempts to truce it out, but what could you do? They were removed after he blasted them into submission. 

Skulker had showed up once, in his blobby little form, yelling various forms of ‘I will destroy you’ at the observers and pretty much leaving Danny alone. Well, he had shot a blast of goo at his face when Danny had laughed at his predicament, but the teen felt he deserved that. 

A ripple slid through the containment bubble, hinting that something was going to happen today. He looked up through white hair, at the off-brand fenton thermos they were attaching to the new opening. 

He waited. 

A flurry of blue and a swirl of colors, and a small figure was dumped into his space.   
His initial thought was amusement, followed by worry, especially when she didn’t get up right away. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Dani groaned, throwing an arm over her face. 

“This is so embarrassing.”   
He patted her shoulder, grinning awkwardly himself. 

“Well, if you’re whining you must be alright. Captured by the creeps, huh?”

“It’s not that,” came the muffled voice behind the crook of the girl’s elbow.”I overheard them talking.”   
  
Danny crossed his legs, watching as Dani sluggishly followed suit. It was clear she didn’t want to continue what had been overheard. 

“They, uh...want us to... erm, I mean..”

“I won’t fight you.” 

He heard a quiet rustle of movement beyond the containment bubble, and interested voices murmuring, but he ignored them. 

Dani was ducking her head, avoiding eye contact and anxiously folding and re-folding her arms in front of her chest. 

“It’s not that, they...uh... Theyantstomete” 

She clapped her hands over her face, making a quiet whine of humiliation. Meanwhile, Danny was trying to pick out what had been said. 

“They want...something...meet?”

“Noouuuuu” 

“Danielle, I can’t understand you when you’re talking into your hands.”

She peeked between her fingers, still mortified.   
  


“They want you to _mate_.”

  
A beat of silence. 

Danny could feel the cogs turning in his head, going over the ghosts that had been shoved in here, lately. Blobs, Skulker, some sort of lady nurse ghost, Kitty.   
He blinked. 

“Ew,”

  
“I KNOW, RIGHT?” 

Danny looked at her, something clicking into place. 

“They want me to WHAT? Dude, Gross!”

“I KNOOOOW” 

“You’re like, My sister or something!’

“Cousin!”

“Weird genetic daughter”

“Like if you made a duplicate and then fucked the duplicate and somehow one of you had a ghost baby.”

Danny paused, mouth open to continue that previous thought, but a bit sidetracked by that last statement. Dani grinned. 

“It’s not gay if you’re dead.”

Danny grimaced. 

“First of all, ew, second: Language.” 

Danielle raised a particular finger at him. 

“You’re not my real dad.” 

“Ex _cuse_  me?” 

From beyond the walls of the containment bubble, the Guys in White were recording the interaction with a sort of disbelieving interest. 


	6. Scars

No one really noticed when he started wearing a long-sleeved shirt under his normal tee, nor did anyone comment when it later switched to a turtleneck.   
As long as he kept up with the red-and-white theme, nothing mattered. 

Still, it was one more thing to worry about, the scars he kept in human form. 

Danny stifled a yawn, dropping his backpack onto his bedroom floor and toeing the door closed behind him. In one smooth motion, he peeled off the turtleneck, letting the t-shirt bunch up and come off as well. The bundle was tossed into his hamper, before Danny lifted his arms in a stretch. 

He examined his body in the mirror, abdomen taut with his arms up over his head, ribs still showing despite the growing musculature that hugged them.  

Danny dropped his arms in an exhale, tracing a thumb over the thin latticework of close calls and too-late dodges that echoed over his skin. 

He had been surprised, initially, how often ghosts liked to take gut shots. 

Of course his arms and shoulders were covered in them as well, blades and claws being particularly common weapons in the ghosts he fought. His back, too, spoke volumes of the times he had been thrown into buildings, trees, and rocks. 

A particularly nasty one curved around the soft flesh of his waist, a purple-pink color that looked more like evidence of surgery than he would like. Skulker had been pleased with that hit, his blade gleaming with ectoplasm before Danny retaliated with a ferocity that surprised the hunter. If anyone ever saw it and asked, he might be able to get away with saying his appendix was removed.   
  
It was an odd sort of thing, that all of his scars from his ghost half carried over to his human body. Alternately, scars on his human half seemed to be completely healed by the time he changed back, skin restored to its previous condition. 

He lifted one hand, gentle fingers tracing over the twin pink crescents on his chest. It was probably a coincidence that the inner points framed his Core

Danny gave the mirror a faint smile. All his scars, but two. 


	7. Reincarnation (Sorta)

Danny blinked awake, grimacing at the awful state of his mouth. Sour and dry, the worst combination. He sluggishly lifted a hand to rub at his crusted eyes, half-heartedly pushing himself upright off the ground.  
Ugh, there was something on his face. 

  
He heard someone blubbering to his right, gasping for breath and stammering something he couldn't quite understand. Danny ignored the sound, in favor of grabbing at the plastic cupping his face, fumbling with the straps that secured it to his face, for whatever reason. 

  
A faint ache rattled in his chest, and he finally blinked the grit out of his eyes.   
"You're awake, you're alive!"   
The person was straight up sobbing now, clinging to him despite being so much larger, and attempting to embrace him in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable.   
Danny still couldn't get the mask off, his confusion swirling and rising. Last he remembered, he was fighting with skulker... Some sort of new paralysis dart, and a rather large blade. 

    
Where was he, anyway?   
Why couldn't he hear anything except the man's hysterical repetition?   
Tiny lights were flashing in the machines beside his bed, familiar in a way that let him finally place his surroundings.   
A hospital, with the curtains drawn.   
The man was now petting his head, and Danny couldn't help leaning away and frowning. Who was he?   
"-----------"   
Danny blinked, raising a hand to his throat. He knew he must have said something; he had felt the vibrations, and his lips moving.   
The man moved his mouth, expression like he had just made an epiphany and got up from the bed.   
As soon as his hand left Danny's wrist, the buzz of sound stopped.   
Everything was... silent. 

  
Shouldn't the machines be beeping?  
  
He looked down at his wrist, breath catching as he held them up to the light.   
They were... tiny.... and brown.   
This wasn't his body. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reincarnated Danny in that snippet ends up in the body of a coma kid halfway across the world. That body's dad is actually speaking Arabic, but Danny can't hear fukkin anything, so he has no idea. All he gets is 'Strong thoughts' and that only works if he's touching a person.   
> Kid's father is super confused when his boy wakes up speaking english.


	8. Abyssal

He grew up staring into the abyss.

His parents were oceanographers, biologists, the story changed from day to day.

All he knew was that his sister has left as soon as the social workers managed to track them down, and he’d been living on a boat longer than he could really put into words.

 

His room was small, but he was used to it. More importantly, the ocean and sky was always open.

Mom and Dad… his parents, they liked to shut themselves away in the bottom of the boat, peering at clicking screens and beeping dials, listening to the static of what marine life might be below them. He had snuck in once, and found diagrams of animals he had never heard of. Most of interest to them, appeared to be a microscopic fleck of green suspended in dark liquid. It never moved from where it sat on the jar’s bottom, and after a small swirl, Danny concluded it was dead.

The teen preferred to be out in the sun, slathering on sunscreen and wearing too many clothes for the heat, in some half-hearted attempt to stave off yet another round of burn-and-peel.

even after years, his skin just wasn’t liking the sun.

 

The waves were choppy that morning. He could tell a storm was on the horizon, despite clear skies as far as the eye could see. They all could - like a sixth sense, or a premonition, even if his mom didn’t like the idea of magic. Only matters of Science could triumph in this world, she said.

 

Even with the knowledge that the rain would come.

Even with years of experience telling him to be careful on board, to shut himself in his room as soon as possible to ride it out…

 

He still slipped.

  
  


The cold water seemed to suck the breath right out of him, bubbles swirling as held his arms out in an attempt to get his bearings. Danny released a small stream, following their path with his eyes and feeling a twinge of unease as they traveled out of sight. His eyes weren’t that bad, underwater. It was still daylight, right?

He twisted, kicking toward where the bubbles had escaped to, and spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

In a pale sort of blue, he could see the outline of the shelf they had been anchored to. The twinge started expanding into full-on terror.

He shouldn’t be able to see the shelf. It was far too deep, he was -. The fear detached into an emotionless realization when the shelf slid sideways and out of his field of vision.

He was…. in a current.

 

Danny looked down, at the black abyss below him, then up at the faintly lighter blue above. His chest was already burning, telling him sharply that a new breath would be needed soon. He would start drowning in 5…

He kicked twice toward the surface, realizing almost instantly that there was no point. Already the ocean was getting colder around him, darker.

4…

He curled his feet up toward him, feeling shaggy black locks of hair brush gently around his face. His white shirt billowed around him, stretched by the strong, gentle fingers of the ocean. He would die here, in this cold.

In this darkness.

3…

He couldn’t close his eyes. God, he wanted to. He wanted to just surrender to the growing chill and the pressure and the slight sting in his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. A swirl of green had appeared from the darkness, tiny lights sparkling like the echoes of a starlit sky.

2…

They danced vaguely toward him, growing bigger the longer he stared. At some point he realized the current must be very fast indeed, because it barely took two seconds before the fist-sized swirl turned into something that was twisting in ribbons around him. Danny could see his own hand in front of his face, pale skin reflecting the eerie green bioluminescence.

1…

His lungs heaved, bubbles finally tumbling out when his willpower finally surrendered under the instincts that had been clawing for a breath. Water rushed into his mouth and nose, punching him right through the heart with ice. He thrashed, eyes finally closing as the rush of death closed in. He could hear the pulse of his own heartbeat.

The strangled moans of a voice being smothered.

The taste of salt.

Ice sinking into his bones.

0….

He couldn’t see the moment when the strange green lights converged on his body. They coalesced into ropes, smothering his body in their pale green bodies. Innumerable tiny things from the depths of the ocean, pressing up against him and the terror of drowning.

Too small to see, they wiggled into his skin, down his throat and into the fluttering, seizing lungs. They easily slid through the thin membrane in his eyes, his ears.

And oh, his blood. So warm.

Danny wasn’t exactly aware of himself when he opened his eyes for the first time. He didn’t know that his irises were glowing green from within the pupil, ringed in blue.

He didn’t know how his muscles spasmed at first, before moving with a purpose as the hive-mind learned how tissues, how organs and organ systems worked.

He didn’t feel the first pumps of his heart, nor the alien mind combing through his bodily functions to figure out why exactly he had died.

Oxygen. Carbon Dioxide. Nitrogen. All these things, the water had in abundance. For whatever reason, his lungs didn’t… there!

They made a tweak, small bodies working with larger cells, pushing and pulling until they were aligned just right.

Intake, Outtake, water, oxygen, carbon dioxide. Perfect.

They inhaled.

They tried to move in the water, but failed to move far. Even with various positions and attempts at moving the muscles of this odd creature, they couldn’t really go anywhere.

That, too, could be fixed. They had been in fish before.

They knew how the sleekest ones made this vast place their home.

The green bodies sank into his abdomen, stretching some things out, reassigning others. The body already had a nice blueprint of some white scales, on the tips of their strange digits.

The skeleton, too, came with the vestigal remnants of a tail. All they needed was to rearrange… there!

With a satisfied flick, the eerie white tail pushed them through the water.

Some webbing between these strange limbs, and they could act like rudders - oh, and grab onto things! What an interesting evolutionary trait, hands. So useful~

 

Eventually, Danny did wake up.

He could feel the curiosity thrumming through his bones, and his brain hadn’t been without oxygen for long enough to do any real damage.

After what was essentially death, waking up to find oneself still in the ocean, somehow alive, with fish parts somehow didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

He exhaled, but only a rush of water came out.

 

Danny looked at his hands, with spindly fingers and translucent webbing that wasn’t anything like the hands he remembered. He brushed his knuckle along the tail, with scales that looked eerily like human fingernails. It rippled up and coiled around itself, more like a scaled eel than any mammalian structure he’d seen before.

 

Danny could somehow sense the water around himself, the hum of interest from within his heart - his core.

He touched the cold at this chest, where he knew they/we/he kept the main colony of those tiny little beings.  They delighted at the self awareness, and he couldn’t help the toothy smile stretching over his face.

That’s right.

He was alive.

Danny flicked his tail, euphoria sweeping over him as the ribbons of light swirled around in the water behind him, clinging to scales and wriggling madly to keep up.

They tucked themselves under his skin, in tiny bunches within the strands of his bleached white hair. Once collected inside him, the strange translucent-white tail glowed a pale emerald from within.

They were curious. He was interested.

They were building. He was growing.

They had a new host. He was alive.

He was… they were…

 

Happy.

  
And the abyss stared back into him. 


	9. Steep Prices

Stacking pebbles wasn't hard. (Invisibility)

Neither was rapping his knuckles on wood. (Intangibility)

Napping for an extra hour was a bit of a hassle, but he could work around it. (Flight)

Drinking a few cups of water was easy, and probably actually good for him. (Ice)

Grabbing a live wire wasn't something he'd like to repeat, but if push came to shove… ('Ghost' Stinger)

Duplication, though… He would never try that again.

It succeeded, but the remuneration didn't seem to kick in until later that night.

It wasn't fun to wake up in pain. He found himself tied to the bed,  _feeling_  hands wrap around his ribs and pull them apart. The crackling of bone, tearing of marrow.

His own face stared back at him, covered in blood as handfuls of flesh and organs were methodologically pulled up and devoured.

He felt a hand close around his  _core_ , this shuddering little orb just below his heart. It  _squeezed_  and he choked on the gasp that hissed through tearful sobs, eyes snapping open suddenly from a different perspective.

He stared at the body in his bed, the mess of visceral fluids and still-trembling nerves. He slumped to his knees and let the gore drip from his arms, between his fingers. The floor was slippery with it, mouth full of  _sweet_  metallic flavor.

No.

That was too steep a price to pay.

Duplication wasn't for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: If anyone hasn't watched/read 'Darker than Black', it's essentially a story about people who have special powers - but each time they use their power, they have to 'Pay a price' for it. Think FMA 'Equivalent Exchange' but it tends to be like 'Oh you can defy gravity for a while, but in return you have to break two of your own fingers' or 'Sure you can unlock any door, but you have to eat some flowers immediately afterward'.  
> 
> My kind of aesthetic~ 


	10. Playing with an Atom Bomb

“We’re exploring the next horizon of science, kids! We could solve the energy crisis - bring power to every home on earth!” 

Danny shivered, looking at the green liquid squirming around within the tiny lidded jars. Each lacked a proper core, instead flicked through with smaller bubbles that surfaced and shrunk. Still unstable, the captured ghosts were only semi-sentient. 

Still, he could hear their garbled words. 

Not quite in the proper ghost tongue, but enough raw emotion to flicker a bit of meaning across. 

‘scaredsmallhungerfearshhhhhhhhhhescapescaredsmall’ 

Danny averted his eyes as the needle slid down. 

The small team of scientists on the other side of Maddie’s webcam were looking on in interest, a faint skritch of pens barely audible as they took notes. 

“With the right pattern of electricity, we can actually synchronize with the pulses within the ectoplasm, and start to control the energy flow.”

It thrashed at first, the half-whispered emotions turning into an endless shriek of different types of pain. The remnants of previous experiments, buried deep between the molecules of their tools, their walls, the very air they breathed, it all harmonized for a moment. 

Danny felt the hair on his arms and neck stand on end, proverbial ears laying flat as he tried to slink away. It pierced his ears, his brain, singing and writhing in his blood as everything seemed to focus on that tiny half-formed ghost. 

For just a moment, Danny could see the shreds of soul around him, the faint energy that ectoplasm allowed to sing in harmony. It spun and swirled, skittering strangely as his mom twisted a knob. 

Suddenly, the arboreal-like overlay in his mind’s eye staggered to a halt, frozen in unnaturally straight lines. 

“There we go.” 

The ghost had stopped moving, a little glob of green gelatin no longer glowing on its own, purely illuminated by the solidified core within. 

“It wont be stable for long, but we’re taking the first steps in figuring out how to store this energy and transport it elsewhere.” 

Danny abandoned his attempt to stay and listen, phasing out through the kitchen door the moment his mom had her back turned. 

He couldn’t watch it again, the way she sank a tool into the frozen orb, channeling energy out and venting heat in, creating a cycle where the tiny being’s essence was used as some sort of battery. 

Danny flicked invisible, his world blanking out of color and light. His own irises unable to pick up reflections around him, he relied solely on that arboreal hum that silhouetted the world around him. 

Parts of it were still eerily still, and echoes of the lab’s actions still quivered up into his awareness. 

Danny collapsed onto his bed, shivering back into the ‘real’ world and tucking himself securely against the side of his bed. One hand dragged his blanket off, pulling it over his shoulders, while the other clutched at his own chest, sympathetic twinges pinging off his core. 

They were playing with an atom bomb, his parents. 

Synchronized or not, he could feel the power thrumming through that tiny orb in his chest. Even exhausted and bleeding off power, he’d seen the disaster that spread from a core being punctured. 

No.

An atom bomb wasn’t even close. 


	11. Double Dipping

"Hey, what's your name?"

Danny swung a leg over his perch, peering down at the child below. A brash girl of maybe 6 or 7 years stared back up at him, flicking curly brown hair out of her eyes and clutching a stuffed goat that swung dangerously low to the ground.

He blinked.

"Aren't you not supposed to talk to strangers?"

She made a face at him, looking around.

"Pssh. There's no strangers here. You're Phantom, right? I saw you on the news! My parents dont think you're real"

He shifted in the tree, brushing a leaf from his own hair and dangling his arms down. She hopped in a weak attempt to touch his hand, but missed by a good foot.

"Maybe I'm not real."

Not to be dissuaded, the girl started eyeing the tree critically. Yeah, he didn't need a kid trying to climb up and breaking their arm.

"Why'd you ask my name if you already knew who I am?"

"'Cause it's polite, duh."

He stuck his tongue out, and she laughed, grinning up at him with crooked front teeth.

"Where's your parents, anyway?"

The girl gave a spin, holding the plush out.

"Oh, they're around."

"-ellll…. -able!?"

The girl perked up at the sound of someone yelling, raising up the goat to wave it.

"Roddy, c'mere!

Another kid came tumbling out through the brush, just as skinny and small, with matching curly brown hair cut short.

"C'mon, stop calling me that."

"Well, I'm not going to call you -Richie-, Anyway, look at this cool guy I met!"

Cautious brown eyes stared up at Danny, who was still lounging in the tree. The teen waved down at them.

"Why not go by a different nickname? Like, I know a guy who people call 'Dash', because they think he runs really fast. His real name is something like 'John', but no one really remembers except like, teachers." Danny shot him a lazy grin.

"Anything people would know you by?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably, flattening his bangs.

The girl nudged his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Something about the two… Even with the giant handcrafted sweaters the girl wore, and the obviously shyer disposition of the boy, they seemed really similar.

"Hey, you guys aren't twins, are you?"

The girl made a silly noise.

"Whaaaat, it took you this long to notice? Laaame. Roddy, show him! We need a nickname, remember? Show him, show him."

The girl started poking his shoulder repeatedly, chanting the last words over and over until the boy swatted her away, lifting his bangs and averting his eyes.

Danny recognized the pattern instantly, face stretching into a happy grin.

"Dipper!"

The kid flattened his bangs again, looking up at him in askance.

"Your birthmark - it's in the shape of the big dipper. If you're into constellations, and you're looking for a nickname anyway…"

The boy lowered his eyes, biting his lip and rubbing at his forehead.

"It could… work. Mabel, what do you think.?"

The girl pounced on him, grinning like mad. Danny wondered if she ever got to relax her face, with such an enthusiastic smile.

"I could dress in your clothes again and we could be a DOUBLE DIPPER! Ahahahaa! Gross!"

The boy finally relaxed, face melting into soft giggles that echoed his twin sister's.

"Richie! Mabel! Time to go!"

The three of them perked up, and Danny waved at the two kids.

"Sounds like your parents. Better run."

The girl was off like a shot, leaping over branches and shouting "Race ya!" over her shoulder.

The boy stumbled after her, but paused at the edge of the clearing and looked back. He opened his mouth, a 'thanks' on the tip of his tongue.

Danny was already phasing up through the branches of the trees, flickering out of sight as invisibility took over.

Brown eyes widened.

 

\---

 

COMPLETELY UNRELATED BONUS COMIC: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinton Trembly calls Dipper 'Roderich', and we it's canon Dipper is his nickname - not his birth name.  
> A quick lil Gravity Falls crossover~


	12. Astronomy (Astrology)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is in the Reverse Trio AU  
> Where Sam is the half ghost, Tucker is kinda techno goth, and Danny is a NASA nerd with no real powers. 
> 
> You can find more comics and stories about this AU here ---> http://silvermp.tumblr.com/tagged/reverse-trio-au

It couldn’t be said that they had defeated him. Truly, they had only vanquished Nocturne himself. 

The dream lord sank back into the shadows and the night, leaving his young prince to defend himself. Dark eyes blinked back to blue, the slimy tears of stars and black nothingness flaking away in moments.   
Danny blinked the dust away, weakly returning the hug that Tucker had wrapped around him.   
They rejoiced that night, celebrating the defeat of nightmares and the triumphing power of friendship.

  
Danny grinned and laughed along with his friends, carefully averting his eyes from shifting creatures he could see in the shadows. He ignored the way their starbright eyes followed his every move, long faces and glistening fangs so eager for night to fall.   
And it did, eventually.   
The sun sank down, Sam flitting through the golden sky, white flaming hair streaking trail behind her. Free, for a while. Most smaller ghosts would clear out of town when a powerhouse like Nocturne spread its shadow. 

Danny accepted Tucker’s frequent pats and nudges, perhaps sticking closer to the boy than strictly necessary. An arm slung over his shoulder, and Danny could feel something in his friend, a little sparkle that expanded in the other boy’s chest when Danny didn’t shrug off the arm. 

As night fell, he started to see them more clearly. 

Dreams in the hearts of people he passed, sparkling and swirling together in their own little starlight dance. He swallowed the fear that followed, as wispy shadows clung to others, the clatter of hooves echoing in their steps.   
He didn’t look at them directly, but he knew what their eyes were trained on, could feel their cold breath on the fragile hearts of people with eggshell dreams.   
One cruel word was all it would take, then the sparkle of a dream could be devoured. 

No, he didn’t look at the night mares. He didn’t try and think of how the Fright Knight could have tamed one of the terrifying steeds, and he tried not to think about the quiet tap-tap of hooves that followed in Tucker’s shadow. 

Those red eyes were eager, fangs open in preperation to strike. 

Danny smiled softly at his friend. 

“Thank you, for saving me.” 

He leaned into the body, feeling the arm hug him close and practically tasting sweet starlight when the dream bloomed stronger behind the boy’s ribs. 

  
A cold snort of disdain, and the hoofbeats skittered elsewhere. 

There were a lot of sleepless nights, after that. Sleeping was hard when he could see the constellations of dreams spread out around him. A million fireflies winking and flitting around, a million dreams trying to grow and be realized. 

And there he lay in the nighttime sky, sleeping watchful. 

   
The prince of dreams. 


	13. Binding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trans!Danny. [Body dysphoria warning]

 

It had started small, a wistful sort of feeling as he was browsing through a clothes website. A certain style of pants he knew he’d never be able to pull off, an update from one of his friends about how their transition was going.   
He had been fine, just chilling in his bed, mostly naked but for boxers and a sheet thrown over his lap. Sue him, it was hot out. 

  
It officially began with a little beep, an alert that someone had sent him an image file.   
 _#day40 #witnessme_

He had laughed at the tags, opening up the picture of his friend. The other boy was healing from surgery, posting more and more selfies as the days went on, and the scars healed. From the bare shoulders before he scrolled down, Danny could already tell it would be his friend’s first shirtless selfie since that day. 

He expected to feel pride, or be impressed, or something positive. 

He didn’t expect the sudden sucking need that punched him in the gut when the smallest of shift brought attention to his own chest. 

Like the worst kind of black hatred, he felt it crawl up inside his ribs and around his throat, every movement just amplifying his  _awareness_  that something was terribly wrong. 

The phone made a quiet ‘thump’ as it hit the bed, dresser uncomfortably loud as it clattered open. The first black scrap he grabbed, shoving it over his shoulders.   
He couldn’t help the quiet whine in his throat when the tag let him know he had it inside-out. 

Yanked off, shoved back on, he fumbled with the eyehooks and struggled to calm back down. 

The first strap was easy. 

Snapsnapsnapsnap

Threads breaking only added to the hysteria Danny could feel building in his chest. He tugged at the strap, trying to get it over his shoulder, tears welling up in his eyes as it just dug harder into his deltoid.

He could hardly breathe, baring his teeth and gasping for tiny breaths, praying that the eyehooks would hold.

“please….”

Another quiet –snap- as a thread broke, and he sagged forward against his dresser, desperation clawing at his throat and an anxious haze swirling up in his hindbrain. No, he needed it ON. It couldn’t break.

It just couldn’t.

He tugged at it again, wriggling his shoulders and exhaling as much as he could.

Finally, the strap slid home.

“ohthankgod.”

Danny let himself flop onto the floor, arms and legs akimbo. One reached up, patting his flat chest.

The frantic jackrabbit pace of his heart started to slow down. 

He smoothed his palm over his abdomen, and back up over his chest. He patted it as relief swept over like a delicious balm on his nerves.

He took a deep breath, relishing in the tightness as well as his silluette in the tall mirror.

He pushed himself to his knees, reaching up and back to adjust the straps, feeling for broken seams and grimacing at the stray thread that tickled his fingertips. That would suck to try and fix.

Danny stood up to tug his pants lower, throwing on a t-shirt on before reaching for his nightstand.  

Lemony gel slid onto his fingers, a sharp smell that seemed to solidify the feeling of “here and now.” He ruffled it through his hair, spiking it up and to the side, twisting his neck and tilting his head in different ways to see the shadows play in his reflection.

Yeah. Much better.

The skin-crawling feeling was ebbing away, and he stepped back to raise his arms in a half-hearted flex.

Something about it perked up his heart, and he did it again with a bit more intent, twisting his hips and jutting his chin up defiantly.

Much better!

Fingers drew down his chest again, feeling the edge of rough cloth under his shirt.  Part of the edge was lifting up, reminding him of the rapid tick of seams giving way.  He reached in, adjusting the positioning of how the binder fit on his chest, making sure everything looked fine once he flattened down his shirt again.

That was too close for comfort.

He could still feel the echo of knots in his stomach.


	14. Ghostly Tail

The change was strange enough as it was. 

As soon as Tucker and Sam finally left for the evening, he locked himself in his room for a little self inspection. 

Carefully crawling onto the bed, Danny stripped off his shirt and pressed his hand to his chest. It was something there, near his heart, that kept shuddering whenever he was upset. Still now, the anxious feeling of “what just happened?” and “How could I even tell if something was wrong?” was burbling inside him, shaking up that weird little spot of self-awareness. 

He prodded it physically, massaging the weird little spot that rested just under his sternum. Remembering one of those internet informational videos he had seen a few days ago, Danny tried to envision “chakras” and exhaled. 

Head, neck, chest... He imagined energy flowing down through them, pushing toward that spot near his- ha! 

He exhaled sharply as something in his abdomen  _crackled_ , eyes flying open and fingers pressing at the spot in hopes that he didn’t actually break something. 

The light seemed to start just below his solar plexus, shining red through his skin for a split second before expanding white and rushing over him. The cold weighlessness seemed to buoy him up on the mattress, energy rippling through his veins, marrow, an uncomfortable sensation in his gut as something  _shifted_. 

He lay frozen for a moment, before pushing himself back onto his elbows and giving his body a good look. 

It was certainly strange, to see his outfit suddenly different, even more strange to see the faint white glow. Danny lifted a hand to his face, flexing his fingers and watching the odd aura overlap and brighten as he concentrated on it. 

He gave a quiet giggle, trying to ignore the way the sound was edging into hysteria. 

Danny laid back down, trying to concentrate on his breathing. It was near his heart that made the change happen, right? What if he just drew the energy back toward it? It would change him back, right? 

He just pulled it in, and- 

That was... odd. 

He tried wiggling his toes, launching himself back up as he didn’t feel a response. 

His... His legs!! He grabbed forward, feeling the breath punch out of him when his hands sank through the rippling mist. Yanking them back, he patted down his body, trying to find where his ‘self’ ended, and this rippling fog began. 

His fingers found an edge, and Danny stopped. 

Gently, slowly, he smoothed his palms down over the edge, feeling taut muscles turn into a soft mush, then dissipate into a black cloud. He swallowed dryly, that uncomfortable shivery feeling still rattling inside his chest. 

Fingers sank into the mist, scooping it up and watching the wisps wriggle like living things to get back to the main body of it. Of...him. 

Exhale. 

He tucked his fingers into it, reaching....around. 

Oh fuck. 

Not really aware of the faint whine he could feel sneaking through his throat, Danny was practically numb with shock as he could reach under the white line of his waist, could feel the slight wiggle of his fingers pressing up against whatever lay inside his abdomen. 

It wasn’t organs, he couldn’t feel any bones or solid mass... just...goo.

Looking down at himself, everything stopped when he saw the faint imprint of his own fingers pushing up from inside his hazmat, like some horror movie parasite trying to burst free. 

Yanking his hand out, Danny whipped around, burying his face into a pillow and desperately tried not to shake apart with the screams. Joints ached in his fingers with the way he clutched at his mattress, every line of his body tight and shivering. He gasped into the fabric, the motion shattering into helpless choking sobs when he realized he couldn’t even feel any lungs moving in his chest. 

Some awareness came from the thrashing semisolid tail that his legs had become, some sort of feedback about what it was touching, how it was moving. Danny held his hands to his chest, not daring to touch himself again. He stared at the tail, how it wiggled without his direction. 

He tried to push energy back down his waist, watching with paranoid eyes as the mist shivered, splitting apart and condensing back into bone, muscle, and black hazmat. He wiggled his toes, rotating his ankles and feeling all the joints and muscles settling how they should be. 

This was way too much, he couldn’t... He tried to yank focus at the core still spluttering in his chest, sucking in air as the light danced over his fingertips, echoing in his toes and sucking the dark outfit and strange glow back into his ribs. 

He gently prodded, then more forcefully when he could feel a rigid structure, bones and organs pushing back. 

Danny brought his knees to his chest, letting his heart beat, letting his lungs expand with every breath, feeling the echo of a heartbeat even in his legs. 

he was real. 

He was alive 

_he was real._


	15. I just need some Structure

_"Is this some kind of joke?"_

The boy stopped picking at the blue sling hugging one slender arm close to his skinny chest.

Blue eyes glittered in a way that somehow felt unnerving.

"No." he said simply, lifting his free hand to adjust the pale strap. "It's a simple question."

Steve wasn't sure why he took a step backward when the boy took one forward – the child looked like he was barely a teenager. Barely in High-school. Even his voice hadn't properly dropped yet. Why would he run around back alleys in the middle of the night?

Why was he so scared?

"If you're looking for drugs, I don't have any. Not that kind of homeless."

Unless he was some aggressive punk looking for a thrill by taking it out on others. Steve felt himself reach for the thin knife in his coat pocket, rocking back on his heels.

The kid had a broken arm – he wasn't stupid enough to pick a fight, right?

The boy gave him a small, creepy smile, spreading his hands like he was innocent of the implication. It sense goosebumps prickling over Steve's arms.

"Of course not!" The child took another step forward, and Steve stiffened as he felt his back brush a brick wall, sweat starting to bead on his brow.

"I have a test tomorrow, I just don't want to fail it. You understand, right?"

Something in the blue eyes sharpened and Steve yanked out his knife, brandishing it as the kid lunged forward. There was something… like he was watching a movie and several of the frames were missing…

His knife didn't hit anything.

Steve felt a cold hand on his chest, even through several layers of flannel and coats.

Like ice.

 

* * *

 

_"See, these turned out just fine."_

Danny sat calmly on the doctor's table, kicking his legs back and forth as they dangled off the edge.

The nurse grumbled under her breath about Lab techs trying to play stupid pranks on each other, and assured his parents that he was healing just fine. The break was clean – should be completely healed in a month or two.

He frowned at the long wait, resigning himself to a lot of mother-henning from his sister until things blew over. Maybe they'd forget about the time frame by the time he got bored enough to let the ghostly healing do its thing.

He glanced at the X-ray sheets glinting in the trash, surreptitiously looking at his mom and dad's faces, making sure they didn't suspect…

No, he was in the clear.

Danny was careful to act cautious about his arm as they left the hospital and climbed into the RV. As his dad started up the car, he couldn't help but watch the back of his own hand.

It was really fascinating, the way joints and muscles actually worked. All the little tendons working together to create movement. Blood vessels lacing between them all, with tiny holes in bones to let them pass through.

He flexed his fingers, watching the shift of skin all the way up his inner arm.

He'd have to be careful, from now on. Human anatomy… was more complex than he originally thought.

A folded bit of x-ray plastic crinkled in his pocket.

If someone were to unfold it, they'd find an almost cartoonish representation of the human skeleton, with one broken forearm.

As if his body had been formed by someone who only vaguely knew what the insides of a human should look like.

Well.

Know he knew.


	16. It started with a tickle (and then it was time)

Danny sneezed.  
He blinked his eyes open, startled to find himself whole and… safe? He looked down and saw thick cords between his ankles, the whispers of ectoplasm raising hairs on the back of his neck.

“You alright in there?”  
He turned back, surprise jolting through him at the _young_ faces of his friends, watching him curiously from the end of a long tunnel.  
His palm itched something fierce, and the whispers only grew louder as he realized how _empty_ he felt.  
Was this what death was, then?  Would he repeat all of his past mistakes for all the afterlife to see?

Danny turned away from salvation, fate snapping at his heels as he considered the on/off buttons ahead of him.  
In his original life, he tripped.  
  
Danny reached out, the itching of his palm matching perfectly with a curved green button.  
Green light engulfed him, the whispers roaring in excitement unable to drown out the sound of his scream.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, are you okay?”

Danny looked up from the sheet of equations, abandoning the intricate whorls of lines he had been crafting in the margins.

Tucker was giving him quite the side-eye, pretending to do his own assignment while a thumb played absently with an outdated PDA.

No- it was new, here. (now)  
Proper touchscreens wouldn’t be invented for a few years yet. Tucker would be so excited…  
He nodded, glancing up at the clock. Ah- five minutes left. No more to waste.  
Danny leaned forward, numbers filling in the blanks and rough words scribbled into empty spaces.

Pre-algebra was so _boring_ when he already knew the answers. It’s not like he actually remembered the problems per se, but struggling through classes all the way up through Trig ground at least this much maths into his skull.

Maybe he’d be able to get his grades up enough that when Ghosts finally did start pouring through the portal, the teachers would let him slack a little.

He finished the last word right as Lancer set his hand atop his sheet, having called for ‘Time up’ a few seconds earlier.

Danny laid down his pencil, satisfied that it would be enough.

Tucker was still giving him an odd look, and Danny tried to give him a reassuring smile.

From the concerned frown, it probably came off as a grimace. He probably needed to work on that.

 

When he got home that afternoon, he was _shocked_ to find the portal already mostly disassembled. His father hugged him tightly, and murmured some sort of apology.

Oh….  
He had hidden the accident them from them before, hadn’t he…

Danny pushed away the urge to flicker intangible to pull away from his tight hug, trying to think of something to reassure his Dad.

His mom approached shortly thereafter, and he sighed before leaning into the embrace.  
Hugs were nicer than getting shot at, after all.

The whispers hadn’t quieted, though. The central focus at the very back of the portal still had a rippling green sheen. He wasn’t sure if his parents could see it.  
If humans could see it.  

 

* * *

 

 

That was it, then. The humans couldn’t see it.

Danny eyed the green sheen on his locker, practically rolling his eyes when he found the mirror inside.

Of course. He had almost forgotten about the poor nerd.

(Bulliessss)  
Danny sighed at the whisper, picking up the mirror and wrapping it in a few layers of notebook paper before stuffing it in his backpack. He’d deal with it at home, where there weren’t random bystanders to hold hostage.  
(Bullies?) The whisper hesitated, and Danny stared down at it, practically feeling the other ghost quail under his _intent_ .  
He nodded.  
Paper would be good enough for now.

 

* * *

 

 

The lamp he found in an old garage sale was another issue altogether.  
The taste was _familiar_ in a way he couldn’t quite describe. The best comparison perhaps, was the smell of someone’s clothes after they’ve forgotten a shirt at your house after a sleepover. The whole tent smells faintly of _them_ .  
Or rather - _her_

Danny was careful not to touch the lamp until the old lady wrapped up his purchase, warning him about some sort of ancient indian curse.

A frustrated spirit stirred behind fragile ceramic curves, snarling at him in a way that was so _deseree_ that he almost smashed it open just to see her angry face again.

He _longed_ for a good fight, but wasn’t quite ready to open up the whole ‘ghost’ can of worms just yet.

Danny placed her gingerly beside a vintage mirror, tucked snugly between sheetrock and insulation. Unless someone literally punched through the wall, they’d be safe for now.

Without the portal _or_ the Thermos, he wasn’t quite sure what to _do_  with any ghosts he found.

At least they weren't coming in through the portal. 

That shimmery piece was tucked in another part of the wall, still humming and whispering and sounding just as annoyed as he was, that nothing was  _happening_ to it. 

* * *

 

 

Vlad didn’t expect the cool, calculating eyes of the child before him.

“You don’t happen to know a ghost named skulker, do you?

A small blink was the only reaction of surprise he allowed himself to give.

“Ghost?” He demurred softly. “I can’t say I believe in them, I’m afraid.”

The child didn’t seem dissuaded, following him casually as he turned to return to the party.  
“Strange, then. Because… he seemed to know you.”

He glanced to the side, catching the boy’s reflection in an ornate mirror on the other side of his library. The boy seemed unconcerned, picking at the corner of a fingernail with his teeth.

“I’m surprised you still believe in them, considering your father seems over the excitement.”

Blue eyes flicked up to meet his own in the reflection, and Vlad wondered if he was imagining the quirk of amusement. But- no, he wasn’t imagining it.  
And he certainly wasn’t imagining the little flickers of green sparking in the boy’s irises.  
He turned on his heel, looking sharply down at the boy, mind awhirl at what this could possibly imply, hackles raising as the _pressure_ of ghostly energy raised.

The child’s smile widened, and Vlad realized too late that he had allowed his own energy to bleed into his eyes, flashing red. He was so used to intimidating other ghosts, he was out of practice reining himself in around non-humans.

“Well… I guess I might be overthinking things.” Green eyes closed with a sharp burst of (clearly forced) laughter, and when they reopened, bored blue eyes slid away from him.

The pressure quickly drained away, and he watched with no small amount of wariness as the boy stuffed his hands in his pockets and slouched toward the rest of the party.

“Of course there’s no such thing as ghosts…” he muttered, leaving Vlad standing stiffly in the middle of his own house, heart racing.

How had…  
Surely, he would have known if the Fentons had successfully created another portal. Jack loved to brag, after all.

Even so-

Was the boy… like him?

He practically bolted out of the room, breath catching in his throat with a hollow sort of desperation as he tried to find the youngest Fenton. He ignored the few guests trying to catch his attention,  
Please, lord.

**Please don’t let this be a dream.**

 

* * *

 

“No, Go ahead without me - I think I saw someone I recognized. I’ll catch up with you!” 

Sam nodded, eager to get to her favorite store before the poetry slam began, dragging a nervous Tucker behind her. 

Danny made sure to wave cheerfully to him, feeling like he was getting the hang of ‘acting natural’ around those two. His hand fell as they rounded a corner, and he shuffled back a few steps before turning around and jogging back to the little alley.    
That chord was familiar, her voice even moreso. 

What wasn’t familiar was the faded - almost staticky appearance of her form, lounging beside trash in an alleyway. He glanced back at the street, sliding into invisibility and sitting down across from her. The hair was new. He didn’t realize how much of an effect such short-cropped hair would have on her face. 

She didn’t seem to notice him, still strumming her purple guitar and crooning the familiar words. He hummed along, the old song just old enough that he couldn’t quite remember how it went, until - ah.

“-you will remember my name….” 

The chords stuttered to a clanging stop, green eyes snapping up to meet his. 

“Oh. It’s you.” 

Danny blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean ‘Its me’?” 

Ember had gone back to fiddling with her strings, plucking one after the other with a sullen expression on her face.

“The other halfa sent a couple of us out to try and drag you back to him, but by the time we got here, it’s obvious you’re a lost cause.”

Danny stood up, brushing off his knees and shoving his hands in his pockets. This was news to him.

“I’m surprised you even hang around here.” she complained, apparently not noticing his lack of response. “There’s not enough energy in the air for me to even be noticed by people, let alone get them to hear my song.”    
He watched her scuff at a stone, the little pebble sliding right through her foot. Ember groaned, laying her head back on the brick wall and drumming out a quick cord and letting the notes hang in the air.

Danny barely felt a trickle of presence from the sounds, and wondered how much the lack of a solid portal was actually changing things. How much of his future knowledge would still apply, here? 

He looked down at her. 

How much of his past would..? 

Danny reached out a hand, unsurprised that she ignored it. 

“Ember.” 

She jerked her head upright, sparks dancing across short spikes of cotton candy hair. 

“Your name is Ember McLain, right?” 

He watched with interest as her hair lengthened before his eyes, a breathless ‘yes’ on her lips. Her staticky edges seemed to solidify, colors brightening. Interesting.    
“You know Ember, you have a pretty unique name. It goes well with your whole flame motif.”  At this point he was just saying it to see what would happen. 

“But, I think it’s about time you headed back to the ghost zone. Right? Ember?”    
She finally reached out and took his hand, looking a bit dizzy as shoulder-length hair licked and curled around her neck in delighted little blue flames. 

“That… sounds good, yeah.” 

He let his invisibility spread over her, lifting them both into the air. Lifting himself, mostly. She weighed less than a feather. 

“You should send me a CD of your other songs.” he suggested, wondering if he’d be able to cobble together some knock-off fenton phones to listen to her voice without the suggestive little whispers trying to influence him. 

He felt her nod, and slipped them into his room. 

So strange, not having to worry about a shield - even after so many weeks of this being the ‘norm’ 

Almost as strange as not  _ needing _ to patrol for ghost attacks, because there simply  _ weren’t enough strong ghosts to worry about it _ . 

Danny let her float over his bed, unworried about the way she peered around at his decor and dirty laundry. A hand phased through the wall, and he pulled out the concave disc out from behind the sheetrock. From the way her head snapped to him, she could feel the whispers too. 

Or maybe she could just feel the way they jumped and squirmed as soon as he touched it, energies aligning and  _ waiting _ . 

“Tell Vlad to kindly bug off, please.” Ember gave him a wane smile, hugging her guitar close to her stomach. She jumped a little when he squeezed the disc a little tighter between his fingers, green swirls erupting into a shield in front of him. It  _ twisted _ and collapsed into a small portal - just enough for the young woman to slither through. 

Danny lifted it for her, but she seemed distracted. 

“What’s your name?”

He hummed at the question, shrugging. No point in hiding it this time around, or they’d all give him silly nicknames. 

“Phantom is good enough.”

She nodded, raking fingers through her flickering hair, diving toward the ilttle portal in his arms. 

A tongue of flame twisted happily down her spine as he whispered “Goodbye, Ember.” 

 

The portal hummed quietly for a while longer before he shut it down, peeling his cramping fingers from heavy metal and letting the green shimmer suck back into the curved surface. 

He missed the Thermos. 

He wondered what happened to the ‘Others’ that Vlad had sent his way. 

(If they had lasted as long as the punk rocker) 

 


	17. The Pulse

Of course they hadn't known. 

They had stayed up late, driven by hopes and caffeine, too close and too excited to stop for the night. 

The wires were fitting together so _perfectly_  and the chemical compounds were acting just as they were meant to! they were on a roll, they couldn’t stop!   
It was an innocuous little machine - basically a brick with one big button. Their fingers buzzed with excited energy, eyes alight with curiosity.   
Would it work?   
They had to find out!   
One of them pressed the button that they had created, their minds following the pulse of electricity down into its theoretical center, knowing what was happening when they had built it with their own hands. 

  
The Pulse was sent out, and they watched with glee as the ectoplasmic samples abruptly stopped glowing and shifting. The compounds that made up that otherworldly molecule fell apart, and the strange _life_  that inhabited it fled alongside those bonds. 

They finally fell asleep, content with the knowledge that their latest invention was a grand success.   
Waking up late was predictable after that long work session, and they went right to work, cut off from the real world by a staircase into the basement. A missed phone call wasn’t a big deal, right?   
  
It wasn’t until one of them noticed an odd smell the next morning, that they were shaken out of their routine.   
Maddie checked the voicemail. Danny hadn’t gone to school yesterday.   
Jack followed the smell up to his son’s bedroom.   
  
Well.... 

  
When half your molocules start to fall apart.....  
  



	18. Just a misstep (but now I'm haunting you)

Ghost portals were fickle things.

Especially the wild ones - the natural portals.

You never knew when you might accidentally step through one, and find yourself transported through space and _time_.

Danny blinked, mouth open to respond to something Tucker had just said, when a wash of green sizzled around him, and he twitched in an instinctual response to missing a step.

It didn’t take him long to realize when he had ended up - the clothing style of this era was eye-catching, and the slang he heard was pretty recognizable. It also helped that he knew this place. This university, where his parents and Vlad had created their first proto-portal, and Vlad had his own accident.

Which, considering the fact it had been a _natural_ portal that dumped him here, he really wasn’t pleased about.

Danny looked around, confirmed that his friends hadn’t been transported along with him, and promptly turned invisible.

There were only three people in this time that he would trust to try and send him back to the Ghost Zone - once inside, it would be an easy enough matter to find Clockwork’s castle and get shoved back to his own timeline.

First, he needed to find his parents.

And maybe Vlad.

\-----

The midday sun was a lovely warmth against his back, sliding friendly heat across his body to contrast the cold winds blowing in from sorta northwest-ish (if he had estimated the time of day correctly.). Winter would be here soon, the winds whispered. His icy core hummed in quiet happiness at the general temperature, relaxing a few degrees in its constant struggle to keep him cold enough to function.

He wondered if it was only his human half that enjoyed the sun and warmth, or if it was a universal enjoyment. Could ghosts absorb sunlight? Normal ones, not just plant-based ghosts. Maybe if Technus hooked up to some solar panels...

Regardless, it had been a long, pleasantly cold morning as he circled the University grounds, eyes scanning for familiar faces - and hairstyles. Hours passed in gentle flight, the alarmed worrying had faded to a quiet anxiety about his situation. There wasn’t much that could be done until he found the people he was looking for, so there wasn’t much use in freaking out constantly.

When the campus clock struck 2 pm, he wondered if he should grab a bite to eat.

When the clock struck 8 pm, even his ghost side’s stomach was gurgling unhappily at him. Well, it didn’t have a stomach per se, but it still required sustenance of sorts. Danny found the building labeled ‘Library’ and sank down, half-heartedly maintaining his invisibility.

Danny settled down near a study group, carefully positioning himself near a window, in case someone noticed a chill. The mild anxiety the lot of them were putting off would be enough for a while. It was… an odd sensation, feeding on someone’s emotions. Too bad it wasn’t exam week - the library would have been a buffet. Danny would need to properly eat eventually, but his body was put into enough of a stasis while in ghost form that it wasn’t an urgent requirement

He closed his eyes, turning over the map he had been building of the campus in his head. Wandering and looking randomly wasn’t getting him anywhere. He should figure out where his parents had been building the portal - one of the science labs, probably. Wherever that was.

Yeah, he needed a better plan.

 

\---

It was a mixture of sheer luck and a random epiphany that he ended up skimming through the University phone book, searching for certain names. They were organized by Hall, apparently, so he had to alphabetically go through every single stupid- There!

Danny flicked his tail in delight, tapping his finger against the name and sliding sideways to find his…. Major. No room number. Crap.

It was Carlisle hall, though. He knew where that was, at least. He’d passed the stupid L-shaped building at least three times.

Danny shushed his stomach, wondering how immoral it would be to steal food in another timeline. Minor emotions just weren’t doing it for him.

What if it was just stealing from the cafeteria? Surely there were students who overate, not like they’d notice the difference. No, maybe later. He had a quest, and a lead!

In Carslile, he just had to stick his head behind the front desk, skimming over mailboxes until he found the right name and room number. Whoop~ There we go! Off to the third floor!

 

\----

The door in front of him had a bland notebook-paper sign taped to the front, with ‘Vlad Masters’ penned neatly in slanted letters. Danny’s mind raced with the possabilities before him. Should he knock? How far were they in the portal building?

He took a breath (and realized as he was doing it, that he really didn’t need to breathe) and just phased through the stupid door. 

Danny looked around the room, noting the complete lack of posters, colorful bedding, or extra furniture. Just the plain university-provided bunk, a hamper with some dirty clothes, and a desk full of books and papers.

“Geeze, you’re boring.”

Someone groaned from the bed, springs squeaking as they shifted and a person moved to peer bleary-eyed up at him.

Oh lord, he had totally forgotten Vlad had a mullet. Ha!

Danny met his eyes, and gave a little jaunty wave.

“Yo.”

His stomach decided it was time to growl. Dark blue eyes glanced down at his torso, then back up to his face.

Well, it didn’t hurt to try.

“You got any snacks?”

A small nod, and a gesture toward the tall dresser pressed up against the wall.

“Sweet, thanks.”

Vlad stared at him, but didn’t try to stop Danny from rummaging through his snack drawer. Every once in awhile he would pull a bag or box out of the drawer, phasing a hand through the packaging and pulling out a single chip or candy to try.  It may have been the dead of night, but his own glow was good enough to see by, and there was no point in breaking the seal.

“You’re a ghost.”

Danny nodded agreeably, to the sleep-rasped whisper, taking curious nibbles off the foreign snacks, bright eyes flaring in interest when he found a flavor he had never encountered before.

He flipped the bag over, blinking curiously at the lack of an ingredients list. Ah, no, there was a list, but the familiar black and white table of health facts was completely absent. Maybe it wasn’t required by law yet?

He shoved another chip in his mouth. The taste burst strangely over his tongue, interacting oddly with the ectoplasm in his saliva and making a delightful bloom of sweet-tart before fading into a creamy sort of saltiness. He stared vaguely into the middle distance, contemplating the odd flavor.

What did they make chips out of back then? Back-now? He could feel the solids disintegrating somewhere in his chest region, and the supplimenting food perked his energy back up a little.

Or maybe it was just the sugar.

“What do you want from me?”

He glanced up at the quiet, strangled voice, blinking when Vlad hunched his shoulders, pressing back into his pillow.

…..

Oh?

 

Oh!

He didn’t have any real experiences with ghosts, did he? The young man lying over there with mussed hair and trembling fingers wasn’t a half ghost -  hell, he didn’t even know who Danny was, just that some glowing guy walked through the wall, woke him up, and started stealing his snacks.

 

Poor guy.

 

“My name is Danny.” he offered, trying to be helpful. He could feel the anxious twang of fear in the air, and peeked back into the drawer. Maybe he could offer the guy a snack, and he’d calm down? He hadn’t really prepared for meeting like this, he’d just impulsively waltzed in. It seemed to be biting him in the butt.

Sensitive hearing picked up the rustle of blankets, and Danny glanced up to see Vlad crouched awkwardly, half out of bed.

Danny blinked at him, watching with a puzzled expression as Vlad slowly resumed moving. He slid out of his blankets and edged toward the door, always facing Danny and kinda fumbling sideways along the wall. Wide blue eyes darted to the only exit, then back to him.

“Running away won’t do much good, you know.’”

He had meant it as an innocent comment, but from the rapidly paling cheeks, Vlad probably took it very badly. It was weird seeing the young man so vulnerable-looking.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to explain himself.

“Hey, that wasn’t a threat.”

Danny put the chips down, humming a tone to himself in thought. His tail split apart and solidified into two legs, and he sat himself on Vlad’s surprisingly uncomfortable desk chair, some old memory telling him that people felt less threatened when the other person was lower than them.

Vlad still edged toward the door, only freezing in place when Danny was looking directly at him.

“Where are you trying to go, anyway? Do you have the numbers for the Ghostbusters or something?” He smiled, trying to crack a joke. Vlad just looked terrified.

 

Danny felt his smile slip.

This wasn’t going at all how he had not-planned.

He watched with idle curiosity as Vlad unlocked and rushed out of the door, bare feet slapping against the thinly carpeted hallway.

Hm.

 

\---  


“So this is where you ran off to.”

He felt more than he saw, Vlad jump in place, body shuddering as he shied sideways to stare at the point where his voice came from.

There was nothing there, of course. Danny wasn’t dumb enough to suddenly pop into invisibility in the middle of a brightly lit classroom. Instead, he stole a nearby student’s pencil and started doodling at the edges of Vlad’s notebook, little smiley faces and absent swirls.

It had taken all of thirty seconds to find the class list taped helpfully to his wall, times and locations underlined for a new semester. It was a peace of cake after that, to wait out the night in the Business college, poking around in teacher’s offices and napping on uncomfortable furniture to pass the time.

Vlad sat stiffly beside him for a long while, staring in muted horror at the designs appearing beside his notes. He should chill, he was making the drawings cute on purpose. Look, a lil ghost saying ‘boo!’ and a cute lil frog. A half-hearted attempt at re-creating the chip company’s mascot badger.

“What do you want from me?”

Danny paused at the hoarse whisper, humming to himself and invisibly watching the side of Vlad’s face.

“I want to go home. I landed here by accident, and you’re the best lead I have.”

“I don’t even know anything about ghosts!” Vlad protested.

Danny drew a small sadface, before tapping the eraser against the desk a few times, thinking.

“You know a guy named Jack Fenton?”

He paused.

“If you don’t I could help you find him.”

\--

 

By the time class let out, Vlad still didn’t seem comfortable, but he did seem less jumpy. Danny counted that as a win.

He trailed after the taller man, invisible and intangible - just a cold presence hanging around. Apparently Vlad had NOT heard of Jack Fenton.

Apparently he was a freshman in college and hadn’t really made many friends yet.

That explained the bare room.

Not really, that was just sad.

But if he hadn’t met Jack, then they definitely hadn’t started building the proto portal yet - which meant he was a long way from being able to get home like that.

Danny sighed forlornly, trailing in Vlad’s shadow and resigning himself to looking up his dad’s name anyway, as soon as they got back to the dorm.

Somewhere, a clock chimed noon.

\--

Danny wondered how many fries he could steal before Vlad realized they were disappearing faster than they should off his plate. 

By the end of lunch, he was disappointed. 

Either Vlad didn't notice, or he did and just didn't react.

Boo. 

Like, in a negative boo-ing sort of way, not like a ghostly boo! 

It was a dumb word anyway. 

Boo~ 

\--

 

The larger boy (and Jack really did look like a boy, instead of a man. There was something about the optimistic, almost naive face he showed the world) had been _tickled pink_ to be approached by someone who was interested in ghosts. Jack had ushered Vlad (and, unknowingly, Danny) into his dorm before closing the door and plopping down in a sturdy chair covered by a clearly hand-knitted afghan.

Similar colored yarn and a glint of a long needle poked out from under his bed.

“So what can I help you with, Vlad, was it?”

Danny watched his future-enemy nod solemnly, taking a breath to settle his nerves.

“I’m being haunted.”

Jack practically lit up.

“Are you really!? What kind of signs have you been getting! Is there a cold spot in your room? Have you purchased anything old recently? Have you gotten any messages or signs from the spirit?

Vlad hunched his shoulders under the onslaught of questions, glancing sideways toward the constant cold spot pressed against his shoulder.

“He says he wants to go home. Cold, yes, and he doodles in my notebook during class.”

Jack quieted a little. His brows furrowed slightly, and the smile slipped a little.

Almost like he didn’t expect such an agreeable answer, and he was a bit suspicious.

“Do  you have examples of the writing? Has it… told you any other information about itself? Do you know what it looks like?”

Vlad dragged his backpack up into his lap, unzipping it and pulling out a notebook, flipping to the page with all Danny’s doodles in the margins. He pointed to them emphatically, and Danny could hear the hopeful buzz curling off him, that maybe Jack really did believe him, and knew something about this. Maybe he wasn’t going completely insane?

“I saw him last night - He had…. White hair, and really green eyes. A strange black and white leotard.” Vlad flinched slightly at the offended scoff that puffed air over his neck. Jack glanced up, noticing his guest leaning sideways away from something, the color draining out of already pale features.

Danny didn’t reveal himself.

Not for any particular reason, really. There was just… no point. There was no proto-portal, and no other leads until a natural portal sprang into existence or Clockwork decided to interfere.

The growing dread that he’d be stuck here long-term had settled into a vague sort of acceptance. It probably hadn’t registered properly yet, but as long as he was _doing_ something, he didn’t have to think too deeply about what that implied.

“Do you have… protections, or anything I can use? I can’t sleep with this thing in my room.”

Jack’s eyes scanned the air, and took in Vlad’s frazzled, tired features.

“I might have just the thing.” He announced.  

 

\--

Turns out Jack’s idea of ‘Ghost Repellant’ is a scribbled rune on some specialty paper, and  a piece of tape stuck to Vlad’s clothes.

It didn’t work like Jack appeared to intend - Danny had no problem leaning close to squint at the rune when they got back to Vlad’s room, sensing _something_ at least.

That same tape, slapped over Danny’s arm, on the other hand, had him yelping and swatting at the paper, crumpling it a bit until the tape disengaged and floated harmlessly to the ground after sticking to something invisible for a moment.

Vlad had good aim, and unfortunately quick reflexes.

Danny spent the rest of the night hovering in a corner, while Vlad waited for him to come within arm’s reach, homemade ghost-zapper ready to pounce.  

 

Thankfully, the young and slightly-less-evil version of his arch enemy had a very long day, and eventually succumbed to sleep.  

His ectoplasm still hummed, energy keeping him awake as the stars turned overhead, but Danny knew his human body would be aching under the stress from so little food and sleep. While Vlad didn’t seem bothered by only having the one meal at lunch (unless he also ate breakfast? The sneak!) Danny was definitely used to three square meals, plus snacks, and raised-stakes emotions from crowd flybys and dangerous battles.

This low-level anxiety just wasn’t cutting it. 

Danny peered at Vlad one more time, making absolutely sure he was asleep, before using two pencils as improptu chopsticks to pull the horrid little rune-paper from limp fingers.

 

He dropped it behind the dresser.

 

With a muffled yawn, Danny allowed himself to float gently down onto the top bunk, closing his eyes.

He might not be able to fully _sleep_ in this form, but until he found a safe place or a solution, there wasn’t many options.

 

The last thought that drifted through his head before the pseudo-sleep fuzzed over his cognative function was;

  
_I wonder how much I’m changing, by being here?_


	19. Choose The One...

It was just a snippet of gossip - an overheard throwaway phrase that slipped into his ear as he walked. Two girls his age had advised each other on love, and came to a conclusion

_ If you love two people, then choose the one who loves you most - the one who shows they care about you. Actions speak louder than words. _

And that, for whatever reason, made his thoughts start to turn. 

_ Who loves you most _ ? 

There were only a few people in his life who he’d say he loved, and only a few he’s estimate would love him back, if given the chance. Danny mulled the question over as he pulled his locker open, pushing a roughly worn backpack into the small space. He waved off Tucker, accepting the pencil shoved into his jacket without complaint. 

Of course it would be Sam, right? 

Everyone said they were lovebirds - teased mercilessly. It was hard to think of her in this sense without also recalling kisses used as a disguise, and the fluttering feeling of attraction. Her moral compass pointed without wavering, and Sam was always quick to speak up and charge toward ‘Justice’.  She always captured his attention - demanded it, really. Quick to stand her ground and demand the world move. 

And that… made him hesitate. 

As much as his heart flopped around when her eyes met his, he couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension that curled up at the thought of really dating her. Sam was… really headstrong. Not that he minded surefootedness in opinion, of course, but she always seemed to hold this idea of him that he wasn’t sure was actually  _ him _ . Little comments here and there, like she liked the idea of him, and not the actual-him, with all his flaws and insecurity. 

_ Brave, Strong, I believe in you! _

Did she really? Or was she cheering on who she hoped he’d be. A hero that he emulated and failed to truly be. 

Danny picked up his books, kicking the metal door shut and slouching toward his last class of the day. 

Valerie was a close second. 

She was… beautiful, in a dangerous kind of way. Like a brightly patterned fish, or a poisonous frog. Jewel-bright and tempting to behold, with deadly precision just below her surface. She battled ghosts, fought for other people - they were very alike. 

She had such a strong sense of justice, and the way she tried to protect him in human form was incredibly flattering. Again, his heart twisted up in knots thinking about her, equal sides eager, excited, and  _ wary _ . 

They both might see things in black and white most of the time, but Val was so much harder to reason with. Where Sam stormed around her problems with quick wit and stormy snaps, Val pushed right down the middle, blades and guns flashing. 

Like Sam, Valerie tended to see just a part of him. Human or Ghost. In need of protecting or in need of Destroying. Nowadays, he couldn’t even figure out if she was fighting for fun, or if she still thought it was necessary. 

The fierce grin in her voice when she claimed it was a duty didn’t really clarify things. 

Actions speak louder than words, right?

 

Danny sighed, slipping into his seat and glancing up at the whiteboard. Quiz today, great. 

He pulled open his textbook, turning to the page directed, and quickly scanning for keywords. At least he could  _ try  _ to study before the test. Unfortunately, it seemed like his brain was caught on other things, and he couldn’t stop turning over the idea of love in his head. 

 

_ Actions speak louder than words…  _

 

But.. there was… someone...who had been loyally by his side. 

 

Someone who stepped in to take a blow for him. Who had faced phobias and horrors and  _ literally your worst fear _ just to buy him a few moment’s time. . 

Who  _ swallowed poison _ for him. 

Granted, it was only poisonous for ghosts, but there was a lot of symbolism for literally eating a poison so it couldn’t hurt him. 

Someone who had stayed up ungodly to spend more time with him. 

_ Someone who wanted to become a ghost, to be on the same level as him _ . 

 

A test was slipped onto his desk. He’d forgotten to grab a pencil. 

Danny glanced sideways out of the corner of his eyes, hand creeping down to draw out the mechanical pencil out from his jacket pocket. Tucker was already hunched over, the tip of his tongue pinched between teeth as he scribbled answers furiously. 

 

The wish hadn’t been explained as such, but all he could think about was “ _ I was tired of being left behind.” _

 

Danny tapped his finger on the test, rolling the pencil between his fingers and examining the bright red-- his favorite color. 

  
_ …..Then choose the one who loves you most _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post: http://dannyphantomrenaissance.tumblr.com/post/157834604458/on-who-cares-about-danny-the-most-sam-or


	20. Surgical Precision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal (TV) crossover~

Assassins were so troublesome.

 

Vlad exhaled slowly, allowing his invisibility to drop away as he leaned against the parking garage’s cold pillar.

His shoulder throbbed, fingers slick with blood he was trying in vain to keep inside himself. He could still feel the bullet inside of him, grinding unpleasantly against the inside of his shoulder blade. Judging from the angle, that _мудак_ had probably been aiming for his head.

 

No matter, the man had been dealt with, body now stored safely about 20 feet below the cement he stood upon. One more missing person, and one more thread to follow back to someone who wanted him dead. Fame was a real pain in the ass, sometimes. Or- pain in the shoulder, in this case.  The slam of a closing car door registered faintly in the distance. He shifted slightly to press more into the shadows.

 

He shifted his arm, wincing at the metal-on-bone soundfeelingvibration that slid through his skeleton. He hissed under his breath, eyes closed as he tried to figure out where exactly the main chunk of bullet was resting. From the starburst of pain radiating in a messy net, it had probably been a hollow-tip. Metal shards were likely working their way into his muscles every time he moved. _дерьмо._

 

A startled inhale caught his attention, and Vlad almost jumped out of his skin, clamping down a bit harder on his wound and twisting to see who had found him.

 

“S-sir, are you alright- no, of course not, I’ll call an-” “I'd rather you didn't.” He interrupted, already considering ways to make the young man _forget_ . It wouldn't do for the public to know this kind of thing. It would create too much _attention_.

 

“It's not as bad as it looks.” He added, sharp gaze tracking the man’s fidgeting hands. Though he could see the glint of blue eyes framed by messy curls, the other man didn’t seem to want to make eye contact.

“Still, that's a lot of blood, I should- you need-”

He was… strangely expressive. Always shifting, eyes darting at Vlad, then around the dimly lit parking garage like he could was trying to figure out what had happened. Vlad gritted his teeth in annoyance as another set of footsteps approached.

 

“I thought you said you were in a hurry.” A faintly amused voice called out, and the young man twisted to call out.

 

“This man’s hurt! He needs medical care!”

 _Terrific_.

“Honestly, I’m fine, Just a scratch that wants to bleed. I can drive myself to the hospital for stitches.” Vlad pushed up from the pillar, calmly stepping away from the two as if he were walking toward his car.

“Hey, you can’t- Dr. Lecter, tell him-”

“From the amount of blood in your jacket, that seems a bit more than a simple scratch, Mr. Masters. I’d advise against driving.”

 _Of course he recognized me_.

“I can call my chauffeur.” He retorted airily, reaching to pull out his phone.

His fingers brushed an empty pocket.

Vlad felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he remembered leaving the device in his desk drawer, choosing to hunt down his shooter instead of fidgeting with volume settings.

“It seems I’ve left my phone up in my office.” He commented, lips thinning in irritation and ignoring the offer.

“Here, you can borrow mine. Really, you should let Dr. Lecter administer first-aid, he’s a retired surgeon, and-” The younger man was already pulling out his own phone, unlocking it with jerky movements and hesitating when he realized Vlad’s only free hand was resting limp at his side. He turned to look at his travel companion pleadingly, and Vlad copied him, meeting the mildly curious gaze with his own cool stare.

“If it’s discretion you’re after, I can assure you, my patient confidentiality is very secure.”

He flicked his eyes to the young man still fidgeting between them, twitching hands clearly wanting to reach out and examine the wound himself. Dr. Lecter seemed to get the hint.

“Will, I will attend to our guest. Your client is waiting, and I will be more forgiven for lateness.”

Will hesitated again, gaze lowered, but nodded sharply and turned on his heel to jog toward the elevator. Vlad watched his back bounce away, and didn’t move when the slightly taller man approached his side.

“Let me see.” He requested softly, and Vlad pulled his hand away from the tattered suit jacket, refusing to wince at the spike in pain. It would only take a short possession to blur the man’s memory, and a few well-placed comments would likely instill a less serious impression of the care. He probably could have done that earlier to escape, but the offer of actual medical care was a tempting one. Shifting forms with a foreign object inside him was an awful idea, he knew that from experience. Teleporting wasn’t any better.

Shedding his suit jacket was easy. The button-up shirt was a bit harder, and he forced himself to pretend the parking garage was cold. Dr. Lecter did not express any surprise at seeing the bullet wound, only tilting to see if there was an exit wound.

“Place pressure on the wound again, if you would. You’ll need surgery to remove the shrapnel.” professional fingertips prodded just below his shoulder-blade. Vlad hummed in agreement, frowning at the warm itch of blood sliding along his collarbone as he pressed his balled-up shirt against his shoulder once more. It was already ruined, no point caring now.  

“Can you walk without assistance?”  

He kept his expression schooled in calm indifference, following after Dr. Lecter to a sleek black car, watching idly as he popped the trunk and withdrew what easily could have passed as a tacklebox. He withdrew some sort of sterilizing fluid and thick gauze, gesturing at Vlad to remove his hand and going through the motions of cleaning and patching the wound. Vlad obediently placed pressure back atop the gauze, half-dried blood smearing and sticking between his fingers.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” He seemed to notice his patient’s mouth opening to object. “Will’s appointment does not require me to attend, despite the invitation, and his first aid kit seems to have been ransacked for his hobbies, if the lack of stitching thread is any clue.” What kind of hobbies needed stitching thread?

“I’d rather call my personal physician, if it’s all the same to you.”

“If  you want to bleed out, this is a good way to go about it.” The surgeon’s eyes narrowed at him, and Vlad mentally noted to do an extra thorough job of inducing confusion after all this was over. This man was so stubborn.

“Have you taken any opiates? Your tolerance for pain is remarkable.”

He noticed a faint muscle twitch on the man’s face, and realized with a burst of amusement that he was been _smelled_.

“Nothing so glamorous.” He muttered, amusement curling the corner of his mouth. “Can you really tell that kind of thing by scent?”  Dr. Lecter blinked, glancing up. He didn’t seem startled at being called out, so much as just… curious. As much control as Vlad had over his own reactions, it still _hurt_. Years of healing from what may as well have been acid burns had left him with a rather skewed perception of a pain scale.

“How far does your patient confidentially extend?” Dr. Lecter seemed to take the abrupt question in stride.

“As far as it needs to.”

“What kind of compensation would you require for a hypothetical discrete surgery?” No point in dancing around the subject at this point. He’d rather not heal around metal shards.  

Instead of trying to bargain, Lecter simply stated that his home was only a few minutes outside the city, and Will’s appointment was meant to last several hours.

“Convenient.” He murmured, carefully folding his jacket and propping it behind him so his blood wouldn’t drip onto the passenger seat.

The ride was uneventful, gauze quickly soaking through. He idly counted telephone poles as they passed, considering whether or not to just tell the man of his odd physiology instead of trying to skirt the question.

He leveled his gaze at Lecter’s reflection in his window, gears turning. It was already long past the point that simple possession would erase his memories. Would it be easier to bribe the man to keep his silence, or to threaten him? _Or kill him?_

No, no - there were too many loose ends. Cameras, the fidgety young man.. He’d probably left blood spatters at some point. Vlad made a mental note to clean that up, later. No point tempting anyone with proof of his _contamination_.

With no small amount of irritation, he noticed himself becoming lightheaded at the blood loss (or was it simply the tissue trauma?) as Dr. Lecter escorted him into a beautifully decorated estate. And… into the kitchen?

Vlad raised an eyebrow at the stainless steel prep table, years of association making him think _autopsy table_ before _food_. Lecter must have noticed his expression.

“While it may seem an odd place, I do keep my kitchen pristine. I have a set of surgical instruments downstairs, if you’ll wait here.”

Vlad took the time to look around, appreciating the fine blend of colors and textures in the room around him. There was a faint… energy, of sorts, lingering below his feet. It tempted him to explore, trembling - _begging_ him to investigate. He resisted, deciding touring the man’s home without invitation would likely not garner him any points. His next breath hitched, eyes closing against the sharp feeling of defensive heat bubbling in his chest. He flared his core automatically, trying to distance himself from his human body and feeling the world shift slightly pink, and- Oh.

That was interesting.

Lecter’s footsteps were returning, and his voice called out ahead;

“I hope you’re alright with an analgesic. I’d rather not you move mid-procedure. It would be… unfortunate.” The last word marked his entrance, and Vlad reluctantly accepted the stool and a steadying hand to get up onto the stainless steel table.  

The plastic mask fitted neatly over his face despite laying on his stomach, and the doctor was kind enough to provide a plastic-wrapped pillow to prop up his torso for a more comfortable position. A gas tank’s knob twisted, and Vlad closed his eyes as familiar whispers grew louder, until their overlapping voices staticked into silence.

 

\---

 

He woke up in another room, pain dulled to a mild twinge.

The whispers were louder this time, sliding around him with a mixture of curiosity and anger. Though his thoughts were sluggish, it still piqued his curiosity. The restless spirits… there were far too many of them for such a young house. He dismissed the idea that they were all from volunteered surgeries that had failed.

His core was slow to respond, but fluttered at his reach and let him blink open solid pink eyes to get a better look. Their whispers grew louder, more clear, and realization dawned on him.

Oh, that was _delicious_.

“Good morning.”

He felt amusement curl his mouth at the irritated voice, a sharp eyetooth dragging on the corner of his lip as he turned his head to meet the dark eyes with glinting maroon. His surgeon lounged across an elegant couch across from his own, ice pack pressed to the corner of his lip.

“Not to your taste?” He asked lightly, failing utterly to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Dr. Lecter pulled back the ice pack, running the side of his thumb over a spot on his lip Vlad easily identified as an ectoplasm burn. The irritation morphed into something like dark curiosity, and Vlad resigned himself to dealing with tittering spirits for a while longer. He knew how to keep the good doctor from spreading stories now, but there was no point in burning bridges.

It was unlikely Lecter would care to accept a standard payment, considering his obvious wealth, but perhaps he’d be interested in a favor.

One monster to another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This crossover is continued in Chapter 23: Not hungry for mashed potatoes


	21. Liminal Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "It was never enough'  
> \- but I've been on a Liminal Spaces Creepasta binge lately

 

The first thing he tried was Meditation. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale the good, breathe out the bad. Find your center. Inhale. Think of the things you don’t want in life, and cast them out. Exhale.

Danny opened his eyes, but his reflection behind the milk jugs still wasn’t quite _him_ . The facial features were the slightest bit warped, by the reflective surface or something inherent to _it,_ he couldn’t tell.

Danny grabbed the milk, staring at his reflection.

Its gaze followed his hand.

He closed the door, and the glass reflection was his own - the metal mirror only showed rows of half-gallons. At the counter, the girl shrugged off his murmured mention of a strange reflection, quickly swapping dollar bills for lesser denominations and a small palmful of change. They clinked too-loud in his pocket, and the prickle of his neck said _something_ was still watching.

Inhale.

It wouldn’t follow him out of the 24-hour gas station.

Exhale.

It never did.

 

Jazz suggested Therapy, of course she did. When he relented and sat on her bed, explaining honestly of the whispers that followed him from bus stop to bus stop, hiding in the seats of parked cars that never seemed to leave their driveway. He explained the set of sparrows that always seemed to chirp the same tune when he crossed the corner of Mangolia drive - always the same tune, and the same back-and-forth swoop before landing together on the telephone line. He could have transformed and examined them closer, but the idea of it made the hair on his arms stand on end.

They weren’t _right_.

She concentrated on the whispers first.

He could still hear them, but the music in his ears and the humming in the back of his throat drowned them out a bit. He still felt the prickle of _their_ eyes watching him from moments in the world that didn’t seem quite _real_.

 

Yoga was next. Chakras and clearing your energies - breathing deep and letting whatever stress there could be just flow away. Tucker may have snickered at him, but Jazz was glad to have a partner. Danny carefully didn’t mention the way the man smoking outside seemed to have a hat, but…also...no head. Certainly, his hat was sitting on a head, and the hat was _his_ , but there was just something not quite _right_ about the way smoke billowed out around him, clogging the air with black particles without leaving a trace of scent.

Breathe out the bad energy.

In the space between one breath and another, the smoking man faded from view. Only a few crumpled butts laid on white cement. They hadn’t been there before, and when Danny left the studio, he bent down to tidy up the litter. Though he had seen the man only moments before, the butts were cold and dead. Still no smell of smoke. 

 

Graveyards hummed back to him, when he passed them. Cold, empty places where humans would linger for moments before rushing away again, leaving only damaged atmosphere and grieving spirits behind.  He didn’t like hanging around them. Not the spirits per se - he couldn’t really sense them properly before a good soak in the Ghost Zone. The graveyard itself seemed to bear down on him, laying its mighty weight upon his chest like a lonely dog far too big for a lap.

 _Come to me_ it whispered, and a thousand spirits echoed the sentiment.

_No._

Danny avoided graveyards.

 

A girl with warm eyes stared at him through a reflection, smiling shyly. She waved at him through bus windows and met his eyes in the backseat of a car driving away. She always appeared in the “In Between” but never “In.’ - Always a moment’s way from asking his name, eyes always warm, mouth always crooked in that lopsided smile.

When she spoke, he could hear nothing.

When he spoke, she shook her head. No matter what he said, she shook her head ‘no’.

Still, she sat wistful in bus stop after train station, always catching him in the corner of peripherals and always pausing just a beat too late to really stop. He might have brushed this off as coincidence, but she still appeared in bus stops across the state - always wistful, always hopefully waiting in reflections.

She was always there.

 

He tried aromatherapy. He tried talking out what had happened, and tried clamming up about it to reflect.

 **_It was never enough_ ** , though. No matter how grounded he tried to be - however real and present and in-the-moment and a thousand other meditation-slash-psychotherapy terms he tried to be, the moment he wasn’t actively concentrating on staying _here_ …. Those places would tug at him, just a bit. The more he noticed them, the more he slipped, until the world was full of bright spaces and dark spaces and in-between spaces where a thousand other worlds connected _just so_.

 

Sometimes he met the cautious eyes of a Janitor who had seen too much to not recognize him as _one of us_ , but too tired to point it out. Even as he slipped between his classmates in broad daylight, he could feel the man’s eyes on his back, and the soft whispers in both their ears, from lockers unopened for years, and classrooms that somehow remained unused despite a bustling school.

They knew.

 

Jazz’s college was no different. There was a man sleeping tucked in the shadow of a building, and Danny would have sworn he knows that man - had seen him before a thousand times, but at the same time was absolutely certain they were complete strangers and had never met in their life. He was just as certain that, until he asked for directions, the stairs did not exist, and there was no way to find room 156. He had circled the building, and tried every entrance. Hands cupped to windows, he peeked into classrooms and halls. There WAS no first floor.

But then, there were stairs, and the front entrance didn’t open up into the 200’s classes after all.

Jazz told him that the professor who gave directions had been teaching a class at the time, while a classmate of hers jokingly pointed out that THAT professor had retired decades ago.

Jazz was flustered, the other student was frustrated, and when Danny reached into his pocket, the little slip of a business card was no longer there. The class bell was ringing, and Jazz asked if he knew his way back to her dorm.

It was fine, he said. Don’t worry about it.

 

Sometimes he met the eyes of the girl mopping the floor at three in the morning at an otherwise-empty gas station off a long, empty stretch of highway. He glanced pointedly at the small footprints appearing in her freshly mopped floor, any body invisible even to his ghost sense. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t mop again that night. The motion sensor 'ding'ed at her, but the door never opened. She seemed used to it, and also seemed very talented at Sudoku. 

 

Sometimes he felt the worlds flicker under his fingertips, chasing and spinning and dancing around each other in a waterfall of _possibility._ The Waffle House’s door swung open, and the blinding light that obscured the outside world fell away. This _was_ the right Waffle House, right?

Danny turned around, not quite remembering when he had stepped through the doors. A sign flickered, and there seemed to be far more visitors inside than he remembered.

If he lingered too long, the whispers of long-forgotten cars would rise up again from their clearly-new automotive bodies. So, Danny quickened his step and hummed a bit louder, pulling an earbud up to fasten in place. He could still smell maple syrup and charred bacon grease. The same man he had seen a thousand times, in a thousand different fast food joints, spoke on his phone as he juggled drinks and absently held the door open for someone else - Neither really saw each other. 

 

That was just the way of things, in these places.

There were secrets there, in the spaces where humans passed, but did not linger. Places where voices softened, hackles raised, footsteps were placed carefully lest something from the _elsewhere_ somehow could cling. He could _see_ them - the _others_ that prowled or paused or just lived in the liminal spaces between this world and whatever worlds were beyond it. Spaces and places and people that didn't  _quite_ align with this world. Who were just a touch out of synch. 

 

Some people - the Librarians, the cashiers, the chefs, the janitors, and the thousand other after-hour people quietly going about their business, simply learned to ignore the phenomena with a resigned sort of shrug.

Liminal spaces.

  
What could you do?


	22. Despite Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Despite everything, it's still you."   
> I know this is a poignant phrase from Undertale, but I kinda... tweaked the meaning a bit, for this oneshot.

_ How many times had it been? _

 

He fell through the portal, slumping to his knees and gasping the acrid-sweet taste of ectoplasm that slid through the world. Concrete dust had turned his black suit nearly white, pale hair soft with clinging powder. He could feel Clockwork’s reserved gaze on the back of his neck, but did not turn. 

“Again.” The word felt painful in his abused throat. His effort had not been enough this time. (Had it ever?) 

He needed to try-

“Again.” He repeated, softer. 

The portal shifted, and Danny stood up on aching bones, head lolling sideways as he took a moment to breathe. He swallowed, throat protesting with pain, and peeled open his eyes. 

He rolled his shoulders, lacing his fingers and arching to send a series of crackles down his spine. 

One more time. 

Just one, that’s all he needed. Just to prove it to Clockwork, or the council, or - himself, maybe. Their conclusion had to be a mistake. There HAD to be a way around it. 

The portal danced sparks over his skin when he pushed through, the staticky barrier stretching and tearing around him, cut by the gear in his hand. Time, space, it didn’t matter. He  _ needed _ this. 

The streets under his feet were as familiar as they had been the countless other times he walked down them, FentonWorks sign casting green reflections from the windows around it. Details sprang up at him, and context filled in information on the long list of variables spinning through his head. Which one was it, this time? What was the turning point? What was the key? 

He stepped through the door without opening it, boots silent as he tread across the entranceway.

_ Ghost Shield _ was crossed off his mental list, along with  _ Ghost proofed walls _ and  _ Ghost alarm system _ . Nothing even reacted when he flared his energy, light casting shifting shadows across the living room from the palm of his hand. His ghost sense curled in the back of his throat, the unique cold reminding him of his own strangeness in this time. This world. 

Danny closed his fingers around the ball of light, smothering it as he walked deeper into his house. Familiar pictures lined the walls, familiar inventions lay scattered across tables and work desks, tools and cooking utensils laying side by side with magazines and a family portrait that had yet to be framed. 

He paused, stepping backward and looking back down at it. 

Was that the key, this time? 

His eyes traced Jazz’s forced smile, and his parent’s weary eyes. His own face stared sullen to the side, expression set in more of a grimace than a smile. The shadow of a bruise splotched purple on the corner of the other-his jaw. 

A soft clatter pulled him from his musing, and he slipped into invisibility. Danny felt his eyes narrow as his own body climbed up from the basement. No, not himself, but… a different-him. Another timeline, another world. This was a could-have-been, who still had a bruise on the side of his jaw, and smudges of sleepless nights tattooed under his eyes and over sharp cheekbones. The other-danny leaned against the doorway of the basement, wearily casting his eyes over the kitchen and living room before pushing himself laboriously forward. Danny watched as the other-him considered the kitchen, thin hands on his hips. 

He stood aside as the boy fumbled with the oven, before abandoning it and reaching into the cupboard to pull out a pan. To the fridge, casting pale light across the kitchen as he opened it. Satisfied that the other teen was just looking for a midnight snack, Danny turned back to invisibly examining the contents of the house. 

What was the key? 

The last sign that he had to notice in  _ this _ world. The last domino that could be stopped. The card to hold steady to stop the rest from toppling over.  _ Where was it? _

Danny frowned at the other-him mixing eggs, gliding silently up through the ceiling to check on the house’s other occupants. 

His other-parents were asleep in bed, and Jazz-of-this-world still slept with her Einstein-bear. Bearbert. Danny swallowed, exhaling slowly and closing his eyes. There had to be time still, right? He still had a chance to avert… whatever was coming. 

Was it the CAT again? A new ghost? 

Danny tested the air with a soft inhale, letting the lines of energy cross over his tongue and through a place in his chest that wasn’t quite his lungs. His core didn’t react, and no wisp of blue hinted at another ghost being present. The cold deepened for a moment, but that chill was only a reflection of the other half-ghost, downstairs tending eggs. 

His other’s room didn’t hold many other clues. Walls were still plastered with space paraphernalia, and the old diagram of the Apollo Shuttle still took up most of his ceiling. He let himself trace the familiar lines with his eyes, silently naming each part. 

Danny paused. Blinked. 

This was himself, right? Of course he wouldn’t leave anything out in the open. Not the important things, anyway. 

Under the bed yielded no answers, and the map of the ghost zone he had found meticulously crafted in a dozen other rooms just like this was conspicuously missing. The closet was normal- Wait. 

Danny squinted at the piles of identical shirts, reaching down to pull a few up to examine. Yep. That was his white NASA shirt alright. One rip here. Another little bloodstain there. He pushed his fingers through one of the hole, wiggling them to test the shape of the tear.

Yeah, that was definitely a knife wound. 

What was other-him getting up to? 

A clatter of a pan caught his attention, bringing his attention back to the present. He had been given less and less time lately, to figure out the trigger. An hourglass losing sand with every flip. Was it in the basement, then? The ghost portal? Was it set to explode or something? 

What would kill his family in this world?

Danny sank down through the floors, emerging into the darkened basement and frowning at the utter lack of otherworldly light that usually caused it to glow. Even in other worlds, that faint light had always been familiar. 

He flitted down and gently closed the bottom basement door, green eyes casting faint light, his own muted aura making a tiny halo of visibility. Danny lit up his palm again, tossing the shining orb of ectoplasm up to float above his head. The shadows constantly shifted, but he could see what he needed to.

A half-finished portal lay strewn in pieces across the lab, cords and electronics piled in haphazard locations. He frowned, lifting his face and scenting the air again, not sure exactly what he was getting a whiff of. The lab always smelt faintly of ozone and machine oil, sometimes of gasoline when his dad got a bit adventurous with blending technologies. 

Danny floated around the room, going down his list and checking things off, making notes in his head, trying to figure out the point that he could interfere and stop what was  _ inevitable _ . Surely, nothing was truly inevitable. Surely, there was a way to avoid his future. 

Surely, every world couldn’t have the same fixed point in time. 

He just needed to believe it. 

He needed to  _ prove _ it. 

There was always some outside force, some driving factor that would result in tragedy. 

The smell was growing stronger. 

A prickling of anxiety slipped up his spine. It was gasoline, yes, but… also something else. The odors were strong - too strong.  He examined the floor more closely, striding forward and stopping abruptly when he heard the soft ‘plop’ of his boot hitting liquid. Danny summoned his light, and frowned at the oily sheen swirling from its disruption. Maybe this was it? He should clean this up, before an accident-

Tired eyes. 

Old bruises

Too-thin hands

Cheekbones that only showed that sharply when he had been exhausted, on the run,  _ hunted _ . 

The clatter of pans had gone silent, and Danny realized what the smell had been. 

He lunged up toward the ceiling, mind tumbling with possibilities. Was it from school? Bullying? Was Vlad tormenting them with ghosts released from his own portal? There was no time, he couldn’t- 

Danny choked on the smell of gas, holding his breath as he reached the oven to turn off the unlit burners. He almost flew across the house to open a window, but before he could reach it, he saw himself sitting on the living room couch, lighter in his hands. 

 

No. 

 

“I know you’re there, ghost.” Danny jolted at the soft voice, the other’s tired blue eyes never lifting from where they stared at the floor. He could sense- ? Then, something with ghosts. Pieces in his head rearranged, clicking and sliding like a waterfall of 

“You don’t have to do this.” He murmured, flickering into visibility. The other Danny… looked utterly unsurprised to see him. One of the pieces wavered, pulling away from the picture he thought he had completed. Cold blue eyes hardened at him, and Danny tried to remember what he had told another-world’s version of himself, when confronted with a doppelgangar. Before he could open his mouth, the other-Danny cut him off. 

“You’re too late. I’ve given up. I don’t know if I’m the real original anymore, and frankly I don’t care.” 

Danny felt his brows furrow in confusion, but anger and bitter determination spread across his mirror’s face, showing in the clench of his jaw, narrowing of his lips, and the tight muscles of his neck.

“Tell  _ Vlad _ I’m tired of playing his games.” White teeth bared at him as the man’s name was spat like a curse, and Danny took a small, startled step back. His gaze darted down to the lighter, calculating how fast he’d have to be to rip it out of the teen’s hands before it could spark. 

“Easy, easy, I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Danny lifted his hands, patting the air like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. 

“Send another clone to take my place, I don’t care. They  _ know _ something’s wrong with us - with  _ me. _ ” The boy’s fingers tensed, and Danny felt himself tense in return. “But there won’t be a place to take over, anymore.”

He dove for the boy, pushing him back on the couch and smothering a cough as he accidentally breathed in some of the thick gas. Surely, that didn’t all come from one oven. The other-Danny fought back, snarling against him and beating ineffective fists against his black-suited body. Smaller specters had hit harder. 

“I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS! WE CAN’T, YOU UNDERSTAND THIS IS WRONG, WHY ARE YOU STILL HELPING HIM!?” Danny winced from the volume of the furious shriek in his ear, finally yanking away the lighter and flying up and backward out of reach.

Just as he moved to open the window, he heard the tcch-slide of a metal wheel. He turned, just as the boy’s thumb slid on a second lighter, fierce blue eyes staring defiantly at him. 

“Tell Vlad ‘Fuck you’” 

A spark flashed. 

Fire exploded outward. 

The whirl of confused puzzling spiked, still trying to figure out what  _ exactly _ was going on in this world. What had driven him, this time, to… 

 

Again. 

He had to try again. 

Even as flames billowed around him, and the other-his body incinerated in the blast, Danny was peripherally aware of the house being consumed. His  _ family _ being consumed. 

He should have moved to save them, first. 

 

But no, he had to try to stop it at the source. 

 

Because for all the times he tried to save his family, no matter how many timelines he jumped, the root cause always seemed to remain the same. Clockwork’s soft words, like a death bell on his heart. 

Despite changing worlds 

Despite changing circumstances

He knew the name of the domino. He knew the card’s face. 

 

And once again, they all fell down. 

 

He clutched the gear and stepped backward into a portal, dropping the lighter to be melted to slag with the rest of the burnt-out husk of a house. He didn't bother checking the other-family's bodies for life. He knew what he would find. In this world, and in every world, there was one thing that was constant. One killer that would end his family too early in their lives. 

  
Despite everything, it’s still  **you**


	23. Not hungry for mashed potatoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Chapter 20: Surgical Precision. (DP/Hannibal crossover)

“Shhh Shh Shh shh….” 

Vlad swallowed the useless sentiments he wanted to whisper to the teen curled up on the bed, instead resorting to equally useless nonsense noises. He just wanted some way to give a bit of comfort, but even the lightest touch was swatted away. It was work enough to get him to this house.  

Daniel squirmed, the arms around his midsection shifting and curling tighter. His face was locked in a grimaced expression - had been for days. Yet despite the awful hunger he knew was chewing up the boy’s gut, he still refused to transform and give in. 

“Please, child, you need to eat.” 

Daniel couldn’t even muster the energy to glare at him, foregoing any attempt at vocally complaining and simply hunching his shoulders in sullen silence. 

“It’s what ghosts  _ do _ . It’s how we  _ survive _ .” 

Daniel brought his shoulders a bit higher up, turning his face into the soft white pillow. It was nothing he hadn’t already said a dozen times before. Vlad wished once again that he could simply force the ectoplasm down the boy’s throat, but their human forms were still vulnerable to the corrosive substance. Until he transformed, there was no relieving this. And while Vlad had found ways to force the transformation to his base human form, he’d yet to force the shift the other way. Until Daniel volunteered to change back and consume…. well, he was a rather stubborn boy. 

“The doctor will be here soon, with some food. Will you eat it? It’s just… just human food.” 

The words felt strange in his mouth, even now. It was unlike him, to show such gentle comfort, but the worry gnawing at his own heart, and the pitiful noises Daniel made when his core stabbed its starving tendrils deeper throughout his body, searching for the last stores of ectoplasm in every cell. Stars above, he wished he could just inject it directly. Even just to alleviate the torment he had never been strong enough to resist. Never  _ wanted _ to resist. Even the beginning of this deep hunger was hellish - he didn’t want to know what Daniel felt, with furious starvation roaring through every cell. 

 

“Please  sit up for me.” 

He did, at least, respond to the doctor’s order. 

Vlad watched with hawklike eyes as steady hands placed an ornate breakfast tray over Daniel’s lap, pulling back a silver hood to reveal mashed potatoes, some sort of shredded meat curled between petals of carmelized onions, and thin strips of steak still pink and steaming in the middle. 

The young halfa prodded listlessly at the food, as expected. His human stomach wasn’t bothered by this - it wasn’t a lack of food, it was a lack of a  _ specific sustenance _ . Vlad was just thankful the boy’s parents accepted his offer of an expensive private doctor. 

With a bit of prodding, the boy went through the motions of taking bites of his food, mechanically chewing potatoes and meaty onions with little interest. 

But then… 

Danny’s eyes widened, lips still caught on the tines of his fork, a bite of steak in his mouth. He bit down, paused, and Vlad straightened up as his pupil narrowed to a fine slit, acid green flooding the iris. 

His next movements were quick and efficient, and Daniel wolfed down the rest of the steak, a soft, desperate moan on the edge of every breath. He tested the edges of anything that touched it, and staring greedily at the juices like he wanted to lick them up despite polite company. 

What on earth…? 

Vlad turned, but his doctor had already walked from the room. 

When he faced Daniel again, the boy was pushing the potatoes through fatty juices with a determined glint, eyes still  _ green _ . He didn’t look on death’s row anymore, and awe bloomed in his own heart when he realized the prickly edges of pain had relaxed from the boy’s face. 

The doctor returned a moment later, and didn’t seem bothered when Daniel delightedly accepted a plate piled with carefully sliced steak, leaving the vegetables and shredded meat to cool to the side. 

He risked being stabbed with a fork to snag a piece of the meat from the edge of the plate, holding it delicately between his fingers as he watched his unwilling charge stuff his face gracelessly. 

With a sideways glance at the man standing beside his chair, Vlad licked it. 

Of course, there was the taste of fatty meat - Lamb, probably, or pork. Delicate seasonings perfectly complimented the rich flavor, and he would have been more impressed if it wasn’t for the underlying… sense. It wasn’t exactly a smell, or a taste, but a throaty  _ satisfaction _ that purred across his tongue and down through his core. It took a moment, before realization bloomed. 

Dr. Lecter offered him a raised eyebrow, the quirk of the corner of his lip looking more amused than he had any right to be. Vlad gave him an affronted stare in return, pointedly folding the piece of meat into a napkin instead of eating it. 

He really ought to ask the question. The meat had to be incredibly fresh, for bits of a soul to still be clinging to it. Still clean, still untainted by the lingering rage of a vengeful spirit. Still years before it could age into true corrosive ectoplasm. 

No, nevermind. He didn’t want to know. 

It was taking the edge off Daniel’s pain, and that was enough. 

The boy was slowing down, and from the small grimaces and unhappy shifting, his human stomach was becoming too full to continue, despite the continuing craving of his core. A quick glance and small toss of his head, and the good doctor took his cue to step out of the room. 

“What  _ is _ this?” The boy (finally) asked, still taking hopeful nibbles, sucking the juices out of a piece and looking more alert and  _ alive _ than he had for the last three days. 

Vlad swallowed, gripping his napkin a bit tighter. There was no way Daniel would - No, he couldn’t tell the truth. 

“Lamb.” He said simply, exhaling his exhaustion and adding “Freshly slaughtered. Doctor Lecter is an incredible cook.” 

Two truths and a lie. 

Daniel looked a bit green around the edges, probably contemplating ‘Freshly slaughtered’ and weighing it against the incredible feeling it was giving his core. Like the first gulp of water after waking up dehydrated, or sliding into a warm tub on a cold winter’s night. Pure satisfaction.  

From the way he kept nibbling and giving soft, pleased hums at the taste, the latter was probably winning. 

No, Vlad couldn’t tell him. 

If the boy nearly killed himself to avoid eating the corrupted spirits of the long-dead…. Well, it wouldn’t be ‘nearly’ anymore, if he found out the kind of prey Doctor Lecter preferred. 

Vlad closed his eyes, listening to the whispers of spirits still swirling uneasily in the basement of this house - trying hopelessly to confess their killer’s crimes.

A few of them were even starting to corrupt into vengeful ghosts, and his own ghost form would be able to touch them, soon. It was almost sad, being killed for food, and being food even in the afterlife.

  
He wondered what kind of monster Daniel would become, if he ever decided to hunt his own prey


	24. Together we Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gore. Like, vivid descriptions of it. There Will Be Blood.  
> Also: mild mostly one-sided tucker/danny.

The morning sun sat low over the horizon, gold-pink light throwing shuttered shadows across the desks of Casper High. Students trickled into their classrooms, flowing like a living river to settle into their assigned seats. A low hum and hiss of voices all blending together washed past his ears, the pitch just low enough that it didn’t irritate.

His leg was bouncing.

Danny swallowed past a dry throat, tongue making a faint clicking noise in the back of it. His bones still buzzed with leftover adrenaline, thermos sitting cold and static in the bag between his feet. The echoes of flight sat restless in his dark hair, cheeks still cold from racing across the sky.

An easy ghost, relatively speaking. Some strange cross between a shark and a ferret, who left rows of deep furrows on the back of his calf when it lashed out in fear. He could feel flesh knit together on his unmoving leg, and with every beat his heart struggled to make, he prayed that blood wouldn’t soak through the denim.

The warm tickle down the back of his ankle said his sock had already been stained.

Blue eyes flicked up to watch Lancer enter the room, and Danny quickly leveled his gaze at his own desk again, carefully avoiding drawing attention.

He wished he could say it was agonizing,  but every new hole and bruise in his body was becoming less and less urgent with each passing day. His body was becoming accustomed to this, his pain levels shifting to accommodate.

Last week he had been eviscerated.

It was hard to forget that kind of agony blazing through his nerves.

Scooped his own ( _redgreenwhatcolorwasthat?_ ) intestines off the grass, choking on gore and ectoplasm as his ribs and muscles and skin squirmed and grasped to help pull it all back in. He could feel the coils squish like rotten peaches between his fingers, ( _pleasebegreen)_ . Scars like ropey vines squeezed around his torso, egged on into cancerous growth by sheer panic and screaming of his hindbrain. Bu- _no, it was fine_.

He was fine.

He was alive.

He got up, and continued the fight, organs all mashed back into place, ectoplasm evaporating away with each hacking, misting cough as the lightning splay of scar tissue squirmed into his flesh.

He won.

It had been hard to stand upright that week, the thick scars unyielding as his body repaired itself with inhuman speed. They had pulled, threatened to open again, until he woke up one morning with only the faint pink line to show where any _human_ would have died.

When was the last time he ate?  
He couldn’t remember.

The pain of _hunger_ was _nothing_ compared to the feeling of fighting through a broken arm, snarling like an animal to struggle tooth and nail for your own survival.

It was hard to feel _thirst_ when you were swallowing your own blood.

Broken teeth grew back, but each iteration made them a little bit _sharper_ and the insides of his cheeks just a little more numb. His smiles a little more strained, until he grinned with his eyes more than his mouth, lips careful to keep the lines of fangs tucked away.

If you’re not _bleeding_ then you’re not injured, right? Supernatural healing took the _significance_ away from injuries. There was no excuse to _not_ keep fighting.

Danny rested his head on his closed fist, vision jiggling as his restless knee refused to stop. He flexed his calf, felt the scars pull, and drying blood tugged on the fine hairs. Something on the back of his neck prickled, and he glanced to the side to find Tucker staring intently at him. Dark eyes turned down to his leg, and Danny frowned, shifting slightly to try to hide it a bit more.

Not from his friend, but…. If Tucker could see it, then the blood really had soaked through. The wounds were already closed - barely an hour had passed, and his muscles had reformed. He gave his friend a wane smile, leaning back when Lancer passed by to drop down an overview of upcoming reading assignments.

This was his normal.

And when the first class ended and they all filed out of class, he didn’t complain when Tucker herded him into the ‘Family’ bathroom instead of the boy’s. They probably got _Looks_ , but his friend was pulling the door shut and pressing him back to sit on the yellow-lit sink.

Quick fingers hitched up his pant leg, running water and paper towel pulling _redgreenbrown_ blood off his skin. Danny leaned his head back against the mirror, staring up at flickering fluorescent lights, letting himself breathe. _He was alive_.

“When was the last time you ate or slept? You look like a wreck.”

He tilted his head, dragging his gaze back down to look at his friend. Tucker didn’t even look up, scowling where he knelt and prodding the still-red gouges that hadn’t quite sealed up. He could see the concern written in the hunch of his shoulders, and while fingers might dig in a bit harder than necessary around his ankle, the touches around the wound were always feather-light.

“Dunno.”

Tuck huffed something under his breath, tugging the pant leg back down and unzipping his own backpack.

Danny found himself fumbling a half-squished muffin and a shiny green apple, quailing under the challenging brown glare. He bit into the apple obediently, looking away so he wouldn’t have to see the slight wince his friend gave, whenever fangs flashed a bit too obviously.

He caught his own gaze in the mirror, dark smudges and pale skin that had become almost translucent. He tracked the delicate web of veins across his own cheek, and wondered why no one else commented.

Maybe they were used to it.

He finished the apple, listening to Tucker click away on his PDA and fumbled open the muffin.

“....Raisin?”

Tucker didn’t even look up at the whining note, leaning against the sink beside him.

“That’s your punishment.”

Danny still ate it, careful to keep the crumbs contained to his lap. He was _probably_ hungry, though his nerves couldn’t quite keep up nowadays. It was better to be safe than sorry.  He didn’t ask why he was being ‘punished’ - probably something like needing to take better care of himself.

Anyway, the weird texture of raisins was worth the way his spirit seemed to settle back into place, grounding inside his body as if he hadn’t been drifting apart at the seams. The mirror on his back and the cold sink under his thighs felt _real_ , in a way they hadn’t a few minutes earlier.

He squashed a few errant crumbs into his thumb, delicately biting them off again.

Not carefully enough, and a moment later he was sucking the small bead of red off the corner of his thumb. If Tucker noticed, he didn’t say anything, just standing as a warm presence. Comforting. Steady.

Reassuring.

His arm brushed Tuck’s shoulder as he crinkled up the muffin’s wrapper, and quick fingers grabbed and threw away his trash without looking up from the PDA.

“I could have gotten that.”

“I know. We’ve got 2 minutes.”

Danny hummed, closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath. He leaned his head back against the mirror again, letting the seconds tick by as his _self_ settled a bit deeper, heartbeat steadying just a bit more. The skin no longer pulled when he flexed his calf, and if his friend leaned against his side with a bit more familiarity than was perfectly normal for _friends_ , he didn’t comment. It made him feel more _human_ , so it was enough.

“40 seconds.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He hopped off the sink and checked the back of his pant leg for blood. He found nothing, and wondered how Tucker could even tell that he’d been injured in the first place.

“You always fidget when you’re bleeding.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, making a sweeping invitation with his hand. The door was already opened for him, and Danny gave him a smile that was more eyes than mouth, ruffling his own hair as he slunk back into the hallway.

It was _enough_.


	25. Stand With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-chapter with 'Stand Together' - Gore and Hurt/Comfort and a bit of one-sided Savant Par.

“He-hey Tuck.”

Tucker groaned at the breathy, half-giggled call, rolling over in bed. He squinted at his phone through the darkness, drawing it close to pick out the numbers.

“It’s 2 in the morning, Danny. Go home.”

“No, listen, Tucker, I gotta- did you know I’m an organ donor?”

He sighed, dragging his glasses off his night stand and sitting upright. Tucker pushed the aids onto his face, rolling his head around to give a sleepy glare to his glowing friend. An ambient green haze seemed to roll out from around the window as Danny grinned at him, wobbling in the air. His sharp smile seemed strange, green eyes turned in his direction, but not quite focused on him.

“-An organ donor.” Danny repeated, blinking quickly, the corners of his mouth stretching into an almost manic grin. “You need anything? I… I De-liver now.”

“What the hell are you-”

His breath caught in his throat, stomach lurching as he realized why his friend had woken him up.

White gloved hands were tucked close to his gut, shoulders hunched over as he cradled long, glowing coils of intestines. Danny’s feet touched the floor, wide eyes and slit pupils trembling as they focused on nothing. Something viscus and green plopped wetly to the floor.

“Heh..It’s fine if you don’t have the _stomach_ for it, just, lemme.. Ha, lemme try-”

Tucker was already leaping out of bed as Danny's voice petered off into a wondering hum, a roar of panic flooding his veins with adrenaline as he flicked on his light and dove for the med-kit. Danny rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, helpless giggles shaking his shoulders. He dreamily followed the urgent press on his shoulder, sitting, then laying down on the tarp Tucker had thrown over his bed. The hard plastic crinkled loudly, and Danny licked a streak of ectoplasm off his upper lip. He grimaced at the taste, another bead of it sliding from one nostril and down the side of his cheek to cling to the tarp. Tucker threw open the emergency kit they had put together, struggling to breathe through the fear and horror at what was in front of him.

He cringed when Danny lifted a hand, pulling up a loop of shiny intestine up to gesture.  

“How’s your anatomy? Mine’s a bit..keheh” Green eyes slid shut, a faint hissing laugh slipping between bared teeth as Tucker yanked on medical gloves that were just a bit too small. He and Sam had probably mixed up the boxes, but there wasn’t _time._

“Danny, is anything ruptured? Tell me what happened.”

He was already gently pulling the coils away from those careless hands, delicately inspecting them for damage. He’d stitched up arm and back wounds before, pulled together skin over muscle, but never… never anything like this.

“Tuckeerrrr, you look like a doc-terrrr…”

The abdominal flesh had been carved open from hip to ribs, the white gleam of two of them clearly visible behind the open flap of skin. Keep it clinical, this was just a…. Just a puzzle. Just a puzzle to put back together again. It was cold anyway, like freezer chicken. Danny swallowed, and Tucker couldn’t stop himself from watching the pulse-twitch of several dark organs and twisting connective tissue that _should not be visible_. He batted away the green-slicked fingers lazily reaching for his glasses, the back of his tongue curling, throat closing as he tried to keep his own stomach from- nope!

He ducked sideways, ignoring the meaningless noise Danny churred as Tucker dropped to his knees emptied what little remained in his stomach, hacking uselessly and spitting into the trash can he’d dragged closer.

Oh god.

“What’s the difference…heh... between me and an onion?”

“Jesus christ, Danny, Please stop.”  

Danny either didn’t hear the rasped plea, or ignored it.

“People cry when they cut an onion~”

Tucker spat again, swallowing and taking a few steadying breaths into his elbow before standing up again and changing his gloves, tying off the bag. Danny was wiping away the mess of ectoplasm on his face, absently licking a smear of glow off the side of his thumb. Tucker pointedly stopped watching.

Nothing seemed to be broken. The organs weren’t damaged, they were just… loose. Spilling out. Fuck. Anxiety still thrummed through his spine, but the idea of his friend actually _dying_ on his bed had him double-checking for damage before gently sliding what seemed to be a _liver_ up back into the curve of ribs.

“Your jokes are awful.” He muttered, mentally rearranging the (T _hankGodIt’sCold)_ wet coils before sliding his fingers gently into the mess of intestines.

“My heart’s just not in it, today.” His friend whispered, and Tucker had to pause as the teen coughed, body jerking several times before shaky breaths leveled out again.

“Terrible” Tucker reiterated. He shot a quick glare, finding the hazy green eyes staring at him with a dopey grin as Danny muttered "tear-able”

Thankfully, some sort of supernatural healing was trying to help the process along, and as Tucker pressed the lengths of organ back into place, delicate connective tissue seemed to reach up to web them securely down.

“Wait, I’ve got another one-” “No.” “I had a gut feeling-” “No” “That you’re suffering from a lack” “Please stop.” “of Vitamin-Me.”

He paused, taking a steadying breath and staring at a spot on Danny’s chest, watching it shallowly rise and fall. The tight nausea in the back of his throat slowly relented. He swallowed past the knot, and croaked his own stupid joke. He didn't know what if it was a reaction to fear, or if Danny was just out of his mind with pain. Tucker took a short breath, and tried giving the dumb jokes a shot. 

“What do you call a communist Vampire?”

Danny hummed at the question, head lolling slightly as he tried to look at Tucker’s face, neck no longer strong enough to lift it.

“Dunno.”

“A red blood count.”

That hissing giggle reassured him that his friend, at least, was still breathing. Still awake.

Still _alive._

His movements were as slow and deliberate as he could make them, trying very hard not to panic and damage anything further. The last of the organs slid back into place, ghostly body already moving flesh and reaching with delicate tendrils of tissue to web it secure. Tucker was careful not to touch the waving strands, exhaling deliberately and trying to stay light with the next one.

“Is Osteoporosis contagious?"

Tucker ignored the murmured attempt at a reply, speaking over him with a light voice that didn't match the anxiety pinching his brow. "‘Cause you’re giving me a bone condition.”

Danny groaned, and Tucker froze, thinking he’d done something to hurt him. But Danny just threw an arm over his face, sharp teeth still gleaming from a lopsided grin as he complained.

“Gross.”

Tucker's reply slipped out without even thinking, mind occupied by carefully unwrapping gauze and medical tape.

“Your FACE is gross.”

“I thought you liked my face.”

He ignored the whining pout, noting the breathiness of every word, and the way Danny’s arm had fallen limply beside his head after a moment. The boneless sprawl was becoming more relaxed, and that worried him.  

“That’s why I got Life Alert.”

Danny hummed a soft note at the statement, blinking slowly at the ceiling as Tucker carefully pulled the broken skin together, pressing gauze into place and taping it down. Hopefully, it’d be enough that the ghostly body would be able to repair things overnight.

“Why’s that?”

Tucker ignored the question, tilting his head to look from a different angle, cleaning up the worst of the mess with a wet wipe and trying to double-check that the bandages would hold.

Green eyes were still unfocused, glowing dimly through the overhead light of his bedroom’s fan. 

“Why…hey.. Why do you have Life Alert?”

One last check of the bandages, and Tucker flicked off the light before crawling onto his bed again, careful not to jostle his sprawled friend. Green streaks glowed across Danny's torso, a small puddle pooling by his hip, but ectoplasm tended to evaporate away once it got warm enough. As long as it didn't soak into anything and stain it first. 

Danny yawned, tears beading in the corners of his eyes.

“You… ya ne’er answered my question.”

“What question?”

A too-weak arm pressed lightly against his shoulder, and Tucker obediently, tucked himself against Danny’s side, sliding an arm over his chest. The gesture was probably brought on by pain and blood loss, but he wasn’t about to complain about affection his friend normally never allowed. He was just painstakingly careful to avoid touching the stomach wound. 

“Why’dyou ‘ave Life Alert?”

The words were mumbled into the side of Tucker’s head, and he couldn’t help the small smile as his own body started to relax. He could feel the steady, if faint, pulse beating under his arm.

“‘Cause I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.”

He felt the smile against his hair, and the whispered “thas’ gay.” before a long silence told him Danny had finally fallen asleep. Tucker closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths.

When the sun rose, he was still listening to a heartbeat.

_They were alive._

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Drop me a review and let me know!


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